Ab Patrocinium, Amor
by Avelynn Tame
Summary: [Complete] In five years, they have not worked it out. Now the time has come for Hermione to reveal her secret, but will she survive long enough to make sure they understand? DHr
1. APA: Chapter 1

**Title**: Ab Patrocinium, Amor

**Author**: Avelynn Tame

**Pairing**: D/Hr

**Rating**: PG-13 (subject to change)

**Summary: **In five years, they have not worked it out. Now the time has come for Hermione to reveal her secret, but will she survive long enough to make sure they understand?

**Disclaimer:** So many cutting comments, so little time and space. I'll stick to a brief, 'If you think I own Harry Potter or any of his little friends/enemies/parent-figures you must be on the run from people in white coats'. That do?

**Author's Note:** OK, I'm going to be completely honest with you - Hermione is my favourite character. Thus I love writing fics that will make her out to be a brilliant person. It's important that you understand this now, because what will follow is a blatant demonstration of that fact. The events that I write about are both unrealistic and silly, and would never happen. But this was an idea that wouldn't stop popping up in my head, and so I'm writing it. I actually have several chapters already written, but I'm posting this first one (and possibly the second) to gauge the general reaction and then make a judgement on whether or not I'll continue to post. Clear? Good-o. Oh, and one more thing - I'm a Brit, and am therefore liable to use a bunch of slang that might not be very clear. If that occurs, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Chapter One

                The Burrow, Harry knew, was one of the most protected family residences in the wizarding world, and with good reason - not many houses could claim to have the Boy Who Lived as an almost-lodger. He wished fervently that he _was_ a lodger, but it was not to be. He had to be content with spending as much of his holidays there as possible. Dumbledore had assured him that the protection wards and devices operating in and around the Weasley family home were more than capable of keeping every Death Eater in the world out.

                Which is why it came as something of a nasty shock, when, at precisely 8:03pm on August 5th, the door to the Burrow swung inwards, slamming against the wall with such a thud that every single Weasley and Harry - who were all in the kitchen, eating dinner - looked up in alarm. They didn't even have time to reach for their wands; fourteen Death Eaters in ominous, hooded black cloaks swarmed into the room. Ginny screamed; Harry's partially-digested dinner threatened to come back up again.

                Mr Weasley, Bill and Charlie were on their feet, pulling their wands out, but it was no use - they were surrounded, and swiftly disarmed. Harry looked on in helpless desperation - this couldn't be happening, it _couldn't_, not here, not to the Weasleys.... He'd always expected the Death Eaters to come after himself, but never the Weasleys. Why was this happening? More importantly, he thought, watching as a figure who seemed to be the leader stepped forward, what was going to happen?

                He thought fleetingly of Hermione - safe and sound, hundreds of miles away - because he knew what would happen to her if she was here. He remembered a cold, high voice; two words, _avada kedavra, and had a sudden, sickening image of Hermione lying dead on the floor. A faint, surprising relief penetrated his senses when he looked up and remembered that she wasn't there. Of all the things to feel right now, he was feeling relief... it almost made him laugh. Almost._

                Mr Weasley looked down at him, and tried to give a reassuring smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. His voice was thin and shaky when he said, "Everyone... s-stay calm... nothing to worry about. Molly... n-no need to cry..." Harry looked over and saw that tears were indeed streaming down Mrs Weasley's face. "N-Now, what's all this a-about, then...?" Arthur's question was directed at the Death Eaters, whose faces were still hidden by their hoods. They had said nothing at all - just surrounded the table, confiscated everyone's wands and stood there, intimidating the hell out of everyone.

                Finally, one of them spoke; it was the one Harry had seen step forward only a few moments ago - he'd thought it was their leader, and now it seemed that he was right.

                "You will all come with us," it said, in sepulchral tones.

                Harry's heart started beating faster. _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't happening..._. Why wasn't he doing anything? He wanted to stand up, to say something, or do something, anything to fight off what was to come...

                Just when he thought the whole situation was hopeless, that he'd just have to go with them and get whatever was waiting for them over with, he heard another voice...

                "No, they bloody will not."

                The wall of Death Eaters prevented him from seeing who had uttered the words, but he knew who it was. He knew because he heard that voice every day, from September to June, and then more in the summer holidays. That firm, unwavering, female voice with a pleasant kindness behind it.... As if by magic, the wall of Death Eaters broke apart, and he could see her...

                Hermione Granger, eyes blazing, strode into the room, wand outstretched. She used it to draw a faint, silvery outline of the body of Death Eaters in the air, and hissed, "_Electio!" Immediately the silvery outline snapped into place around the Death Eaters, framing them perfectly. A quick flick of her wand, and the muttered word, "__Relego," and they vanished._

                For a moment, they stared at each other - the Weasleys and Harry on one side of them room, breathing hard and trembling, and opposite, Hermione, who, far from disturbed, seemed to be checking them over for damage. "Are any of you hurt?" she asked, finally, her voice betraying nothing.

                Mutely, Harry shook his head, unable to ask the questions he so much wanted to ask. He looked around - everyone else looked just as stunned as he did. He saw Mr Weasley opening his mouth to speak, but before he could, another voice drifted into the kitchen from the hall - another, familiar drawl. "_Relego? Personally I prefer _extermino_; it tends to inflict more damage."_

                Draco Malfoy.

--------------------------

OK, what are we thinking? I want honest opinions, from all of you. Compliments, flames, whatever. 

The title means _'Through protection, love'. At least, I think it does - I have never studied Latin in my life, and am using an online dictionary to help me through it. Thus, reliability and accuracy is not guaranteed whatsoever._


	2. APA: Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** These two chapters went up at the same time, so I have no idea what you're thinking. Which, I will admit, scares the hell out of me. But if you'd review and let me know... well, the words 'eternal gratitude' spring to mind.

Chapter Two

                Harry found his voice again, "Hermione! Look out!" For Malfoy had his wand out, and looked as though he would like to inflict some serious damage on something, _anything._

                But Hermione did nothing; simply glanced around at Malfoy, who had an amused expression on his face. "Did you get rid of them?" she asked.

                "Of course. Vicious bastards, aren't they? Left me with this-" and he pulled up his sleeve to display a deep gash in his arm.

                Surprisingly enough, Hermione lowered her wand and took hold of Malfoy's arm. "You really pissed them off, didn't you?" Malfoy nodded proudly, and looked as though he was waiting for something. Hermione lifted her wand again and whispered, "_Medeor."_

                "Thanks," he said, pulling his sleeve down. Then he looked right at Harry, and for once, Harry didn't see the usual expression of disdain and hatred that distorted Malfoy's features every time they met. Instead, it was an indifferent, merely tolerant expression, and that unnerved Harry more than seeing Malfoy in a rage would do. His gaze swept over the Weasleys, and remained much the same - there was not a trace of the normal sneer that he wore when faced with the red-haired family. "What do we do with them?"

                Hermione was watching all of them carefully. She sighed wearily, as though she'd been awake for far too long and wasn't holding her breath for the chance to get some sleep any time soon. "We take them back with us."

                "Back with us?!" Malfoy whirled round and faced her. "D-Do you really think...?"

                It was, Harry reflected, only on rare occasions that Malfoy ever sounded unsure, and most of those were related to the Forbidden Forest and how far they went in. Harry felt strangely detached from the whole thing - he found himself unable to ask questions, or even move much. All he knew was that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, sworn enemies, were here, in the Burrow, together, co-operating and not showing any hint of hostility, when according to his information, they should both be hundreds of miles away. Any other time or place, and he would have been so very confused, wanting answers from everyone, and venting his anger about being left out of the loop _again..._. But not here. Not now. And everyone else was exactly the same.

                Hermione noticed. "Oh, no."

                "Oh no what?"

                "Emotional Displacement Charms. Oh, I should have known! I'm such an idiot."

                "I find that very hard to believe, but let me savour the sound of those words for just a second."

She whacked him lightly on the arm. "Shut up. It's no wonder they're all just sitting there. Help me out, will you?" Slowly, they worked their way around the group, muttering, "_Finite incantatum," until all of the Weasleys and Harry were jerked back unpleasantly to an incredible sense of foreboding and confusion._

Ron did not look happy. "What the hell is he doing here? What are _you doing here? And would someone mind explaining what just happened?"_

"Y-Yes," stuttered an anxious-looking Arthur Weasley, "I think we'd all like to know that."

Malfoy looked at Hermione and shrugged. "You're telling them, not me."

"We'll both bloody tell them, but not yet." She looked at her watch, "Moody will be here any second now. Explanations will just have to wait."

Harry had a sudden thought. He leaned over to Ron and whispered, loud enough for most of the Weasleys to hear, but not loud enough to attract the attention of Malfoy and Hermione, "Do you think it's really them?"

Hermione heard. "I suppose we're not exactly acting in character, are we? OK, seeing as you're so suspicious - ask me a question."

"What?"

"Go on - ask me something. Something only the real Hermione would know the answer to."

Ron shifted nervously."Um...OK. What do I call your little Bulgarian friend?"

Hermione snorted. "_Vicky._ And I wish you wouldn't - you know he's harmless."

"Of course he is," said Malfoy unexpectedly, "he hasn't got enough brain cells in his head to even try to be harmful. I fail to see the attraction."

Hermione groaned in exasperation. "I can't believe we're having this discussion now, of all times. You just can't let it go, can you?"

"Nope," he drawled, examining his fingernails. "You're the one who insists on keeping in touch with the berk - and he _is a berk, Hermione. I'm amazed he can even put two letters together, let alone write a full sentence."_

"You're a horrible person, do you know that?" she said, her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

"Yes," he replied, "but you love me anyway."

There was a loud cracking noise, which Harry recognised to be the noise of someone Apparating. Sure enough, Mad-Eye Moody wandered into the room from the hall. It wasn't a big enough event, however, to distract the occupants of the room from the current discussion going on between the most unlikely team in the world.

Harry looked around. Mr Weasley was hugging Mrs Weasley. Ginny was holding Charlie's hand. Bill was frowning, obviously trying to work out what the hell was going on. The twins were talking amongst themselves. Harry grabbed Ron's arm and hauled him over to where Fred and George were.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" hissed Fred.

"No," Harry replied, "Not a clue. I... I thought we were as good as dead when those Death Eaters turned up, but I never dreamed that-"

"-we'd be saved by Malfoy?" Ron asked grimly. "Neither did I. Who knows? Maybe it's all a trick, to gain our trust."

"Yeah, but he'd have to have gained Hermione's trust to be here, wouldn't he, and she's not that stupid." said George.

"Maybe he's put the Imperius Curse on her," suggested Ron, but as they looked over to where Malfoy was trying to plait Hermione's hair while talking to Moody, that didn't seem very likely.

"Professor... er... Mr Moody?" asked Harry, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, "What's going on?"

"All in good time, Potter," growled Moody, "all in good time. Now - let's get you people to safety. Hermione - can I trust you to finish up here?"

She nodded. "I'll join you in a few minutes."

Moody produced a plant pot from his pocket. "This is a Portkey. It'll take us where we need to go."

"Um..." said Mr Weasley, "where is that, exactly?"

"You'll see," said Moody. "If you could all grab on, please?" Everyone except Hermione reached out to touch the plant pot. Harry saw Malfoy throw a concerned look in her direction. She gave a small nod back, but if she did anything else after that, Harry didn't know about it - he felt the familiar navel-tug of an activated Portkey, and the world around him faded away. A loud whooshing noise and one turbulent journey later, and they were standing in the living room of what appeared to be a large, open-plan apartment.

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Again, all the Latin? Not from my brain...


	3. APA: Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: My whole 'Hermione-rules' theory really comes out in this chapter. My apologies, because reality really does take a running jump for most, if not all, of this story. Put it down to my worringly over-active imagination. Many thanks to all reviewers, by the way:

**Crazy Bitch **- You're kind of right about the secret, but there's way more to it than that. All (well, pretty much) is explained in this chapter; I have to say, as secrets go, I think this one was kind of rubbish. I probably could have come up with a better one. Oh, well - too late now. Thanks for the review.

**PATIENCE101** - like the name. Hopefully any confusion will be got rid of with this chapter, although knowing me, I might just make it worse. Muchas thanks for the _two_ reviews.

**Kelzery** - yeah, there was some crazy madness with the chapter thing, but I think it's fixed now. Thanks for R&R-ing!

**Katherine** - wow! Muchly positive - I like that. Draco's OOC-ness is indeed explained later, and is actually incidental to the plot. Moody's just... Moody, I guess. And in answer to your question, they've just come out of 5th year (so all events that take place in this story, occur *after* book 5.) which I suppose makes them all 16. Thanks for reviewing!

**Kagirinaku** - My heart gave a little jump with the word 'amazing' - thanks for describing my fic as such! Explanations on the way...

You really made me feel like I could/should carry on with the story. Thus, I did.

Chapter Three

Harry was surprised to see a television - he'd long grown used to seeing wizarding residences without any kind of technology or Muggle-made products at all. The view from the large window was vaguely familiar, but before he could work out what he was looking at, Mad-Eye Moody tossed the plant pot aside and went to sit on a large, modern sofa. "Nice place, this." he growled.

"Thanks," said Malfoy, heading into the kitchen.

"Don't kid yourself," Moody shot back, "I know damn well it was Hermione who did this - your major contribution was complaining about the paint scheme, apparently."

Malfoy stuck his head back out of the kitchen. "She wanted ocean green, can you believe that? Ocean green... honestly..."

"It would have worked, too, if you'd let me have the carpet I wanted." said Hermione, emerging from a room off to the side of the living room. Malfoy yelped and stared at her.

"You Apparated into the bathroom? What if I'd been in there?"

"All the better to tease you with, my dear," she replied. Then she looked over to where Harry and the Weasleys still stood. "Please... sit down." She gestured to the centre of the room where, to their surprise, there was suddenly an extra sofa and a few chairs. The room didn't seem any smaller, he thought, and remembered the tent they'd used at the Quidditch World Cup.

They all managed to squash themselves around the coffee table. Hermione remained standing, and after a few minutes fiddling round in the kitchen, Malfoy came to join her. She took a deep breath... and began.

"I suppose you're all wondering what the hell's going on. Well, not you, Moody, obviously, but the rest of you.... The thing is, there's a lot you haven't been told, and I'm afraid the story doesn't begin with what happened tonight, although I'll come back to that in a minute. Harry," she looked at him, "as far as you know, for the last five years, you've been under the protection of Dumbledore, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that's not exactly true."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She glanced at Malfoy again. "You remember the prophecy Dumbledore told you about last year?"

Harry's eyes widened and he felt his heart skip a beat. "How did you know about that?"

"We've known for quite some time, now. The thing is... that prophecy had a twin. Or rather, a sister. An older sister. About a year before Professor Trelawney made the prediction about you, she made one about me and Draco. It basically said that we were... Protectors."

"Hang on," said Harry, "Professor Trelawney made _another_ correct prediction? That means Dumbledore lied! He said she'd only ever made two correct predictions - one about me, and one about Wormtail coming back. Why didn't he tell me about this one?"

"We're coming to that," she said patiently. "The fact is, Dumbledore didn't know about the first prophecy until he heard Trelawney's second one, about you. Then he did some research and discovered the one about me and Draco. He didn't even think they were connected for a while, but he worked it out eventually..."

"So... what you're saying is, you two are my Protectors?"

"Yes."

"You... and him?"

Hermione's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I know it's hard to accept, but it's the truth. Our job, since we started at Hogwarts... no, since we were born, has been to look after you. Obviously we couldn't do that as children, but when we all started at the same school.... Anyway, our task was simple - we had to watch you constantly, cast protection charms on you every day, keep an eye out for people who might want to hurt you."

"You made things quite difficult for us, too," said Malfoy. It was the first time he had spoken since Hermione had begun to tell the story. "Getting involved in that Philosopher's Stone business, and then the Chamber of Secrets stuff."

"We thought you knew, at first," said Hermione. "You always seemed to get into so much trouble - we thought you might be testing us, trying to see how far we'd go to protect you."

"How far would you go?" whispered Harry, almost afraid of the answer.

"As far as it takes," she replied.

They were silent for a while; the Weasleys knew this was a Harry affair, and it was probably best to stay out of it until they had all of the information. Harry, meanwhile, was desperately trying to get the facts straight in his head. He'd been under protection since he was born - he'd known that. But he hadn't known that some of that protection was coming from his best friend and his arch-enemy. He shook his head to clear it. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Hermione nodded. "Now we're getting to the heart of the matter, really. This whole... arrangement, if you like, is entirely secret. Four people know. That's it. Me, Draco, Dumbledore and Moody. There are people who know that you have Protectors, but we've worked very hard to keep our identities secret. If Voldemort knew... well, all he'd have to do is kill us, and he'd find it much easier to get to you."

Harry shuddered - the way she'd said 'all he'd have to do is kill us' was entirely too off-hand for his liking. It scared him. "You could have told me, though."

"Harry, if we'd told you, we'd have had to tell Ron as well, and I don't think you really understand just how big this secret is. It's the _key_, Harry; the key to your survival. The more people that know, the bigger the chance that someone will spot something odd going on."

"So... you and Malfoy have been working together in secret for the last five years?"

She bit her lip. "Pretty much."

Harry turned to Malfoy. "You don't hate me, then?"

He actually looked a bit embarrassed. "Well... no, not really. Although you did make some rather nasty remarks about my mother that made it hard to like you. I'm sorry I've had to be such an arsehole to you over the past five years. It's all part of mine and Hermione's cunning plan." He looked at Hermione. "It is 'cunning plan', isn't it? I keep forgetting."

She smiled at him - something Harry had never seen her do. "Yes, it is. But I don't really know if you should call it that - Baldrick's 'cunning plans' had a habit of going wrong."

"That's because he's so stupid."

"Well, obviously."

Malfoy shrugged and went off to the kitchen. Ron watched him go, then turned back to Hermione. "OK, so you've explained that you and he are Harry's Protectors, and that you've had to work together in secret, thus making mutual hatred the perfect cover, but you haven't explained just why you're so _bloody chummy!_"

Hermione looked somewhat sheepish. "Ah... yes, well, that's a bit of a long story, and I think my dinner will be ready soon, so perhaps we'd better leave it for another-"

"Actually, I've just burned the dinner," said Malfoy, cheerfully, leaning over the section of kitchen counter that looked out onto the living room, "so do carry on. I love a good story-telling session."

"Even when you've heard the story before?"

"Especially when I've heard the story before."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "Fine. The thing is... Draco and I met before we went to Hogwarts. Quite a while before, actually."

Ron goggled. "What?"

"I started displaying signs of magical ability when I was six. My parents did a bit of research and discovered a kind of wizard camp that you can send your child to if you want to encourage them. I went when I was eight, and met Draco there."

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound like the kind of place Lucius Malfoy would send his son to. Wasn't there some kind of elite camp for wannabe dark wizards? Pre-teen Death Eaters, if you like?"

Hermione gave him a sharp look. "Leave it, Harry. Anyway, we met at this camp. We didn't really get along, at first, because I thought he was a complete sod, and he thought I was... a complete sod. But they do these ridiculous team-building exercises, and we ended up swapping addresses at the end of our four weeks there."

Ron blew up, "WHAT?!"

"Swapped. Addresses." Malfoy stated slowly, still leaning over the partition. "Honestly, Weasley, you'd think you were deaf, or brainless, or something."

"See?!" Ron pointed at Malfoy. "He hasn't changed at all! He's the same annoying, sarcastic, nasty little... cook..." he trailed off as Malfoy brought out a plate of chicken and rice for Hermione.

"Enjoy! I think I overdid the chicken a bit, but the sweet 'n' sour sauce makes up for it - old family recipe."

Hermione grinned at him. "No, it isn't. You just got it off the back of the rice packet, didn't you? But thanks anyway." She noticed Moody eyeing it suspiciously. "Relax. It can't have been poisoned, and anyway, no-one knows we're here."

Moody did not look convinced, but said nothing else.

"Speaking of here," said Harry, "where the hell are we?!"

"Er," said Hermione, shooting an alarmed look at Malfoy, who swooped in and saved her.

"Planet Earth, Potter, where else? And yes, I know that's not the real answer, but you'll just have to be content with it for now. Hermione? I believe you were in the middle of a story?"

She shot a death glare at him. "Thank you so very much for reminding me, _Malfoy_."

"You wound me," he muttered, retreating into the kitchen.

"Anyway," she continued, between bites of her dinner, "we swapped addresses. We wrote to each other quite a lot, actually; it's easier to get things out in a letter, I suppose. We sent them by owl, of course - that was a weird experience for me and my parents. In about a year we'd moved from being 'acquaintances' to 'reasonably good friends'. Then Draco's dad found out I was a Muggle-born, and forbid him from writing to me ever again."

"As if that was going to stop me," said Malfoy, returning from the kitchen, "I'm a Malfoy. If you don't rebel, there's something wrong with you, as far as my family's concerned." Then he sobered a bit. "The fact is... Hermione kept me grounded in what would otherwise have been the defining period of my life. Keeping in contact with a Muggle-born while my father was busy slandering them... it made for a lot of confusion, and in the end we both decided that I'd go along with what my father said, let him think I was following in his footsteps, and very covertly stay in touch with Hermione at the same time."

"It was easiest for both of us," said Hermione, but her concerned glance at Draco gave Harry the impression that it had had more to do with how comfortable Malfoy's home life was. "So we kept in touch for about four years. Then, just after we'd got our acceptance letter from Hogwarts, we each got a private communique from Dumbledore, who wanted to meet us in secret. It was quite difficult, as you might imagine - us being 12 and having barely any independence at all. But we managed it. And that was when Dumbledore told us everything - that he'd been watching us for quite a while, that there was a prophecy about us, and that our job was to protect you."

Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. "And you just... accepted all of this?"

She shook her head, "Oh, no. Not at first. We thought he was joking, or something. But you can tell when Dumbledore's joking, and this wasn't one of those times. He showed us the prophecies, and then told us a bunch of stuff about ourselves that he couldn't have known otherwise. It was a truly weird day. By the time he was done explaining, things just seemed to fit.... Plus, Draco and I were the best of friends by that time, and it made sense that we'd work together."

"The only trouble," said Malfoy, taking over, "was our relationship. See, we'd been secret friends for four years - we'd been hoping that going to Hogwarts together would give us a chance to be more open about our friendship. But Dumbledore seemed to think otherwise."

"He said that the outward appearance of mutual hatred would prevent people from ever theorising that we were, in fact, Harry's Protectors."

"Plus," said Malfoy, "if people believed that I was Harry's enemy, then I'd be more likely to hear about any kind of plot to attack or kill him. Then I could pass it on to Hermione, and she could take the necessary measures. I don't think you realise just how many near-misses you had, Potter."

Another question was nagging at a corner of Harry's mind. "Why didn't you come to help me all the other times? I've been in danger before tonight, and you never showed up. Why not?"

"Actually, I was there quite a few times," said Hermione. "That first year, with the Philosopher's Stone - I was with you up until you went through to meet Voldemort. But there was no way I could get in without the right potion, and you had that. Besides... we're not actually allowed to Protect you when you go into battle with Voldemort."

"What?!" Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. _What's the point of having Protectors if they're not going to Protect you from the one person who's really out to get you?_

Hermione cringed. "I know. But there are certain conditions by which we have to abide when Protecting you. One of them is that we're allowed to do everything we can to keep you from meeting Voldemort, but once you do meet him, we have no further jurisdiction."

"Um... why?"

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I think it'd be better if Dumbledore told you that. There's a whole bunch of stuff you really do need to know, but I'm too tired to explain, and you all need to sleep, anyway. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Ron sat forward, "What's happening tomorrow?"

"Well, I'll explain about tonight, for starters. And Dumbledore's arriving with Lupin. And I'm going shopping."

"Shopping?" Ron asked incredulously.

"She needs a new dress, apparently," Malfoy explained, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Or is it a skirt?"

"I won't know until I get there - how am I supposed to know what's on sale?"

"I thought everything was on sale?"

"Huh. I wish."

"As long as I don't have to come, that's fine."

"Wimp."

"Shopaholic."

"_Bird-watcher._"

He smirked. "New York _birds_ are just so pretty."

She snorted. "Shameless, that's what you are. I pity the girl who meets you in a bar."

"They fall all over me, and you know it."

"Yes, because you bloody trip them up."

"Um," Harry interrupted, "sorry, but did you just say, New York?"

Malfoy gulped. "Oh dear."

Hermione looked at him pityingly, then said to Harry, "Yes, he did. Because, believe it or not, that's where we are."

Ginny squealed, surprising everyone. "Oooh! Can I come shopping with you tomorrow?"

"Two of you?!" Malfoy rolled his eyes. "How the hell am I supposed to cope?"

"New York?" asked Mr Weasley.

"That's it! I'm off to have a shower, because I stink, and then I'm going to bed. Draco, would you show them where the rooms are?"

Malfoy looked as though he'd rather eat live bats, but nodded morosely. "Come on, squidgets."

"Squidgets?" asked Bill, towering over him.

                Malfoy gulped.

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Any clearer? I know the whole thing is unlikely, but I did warn you… 


	4. APA: Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I'm posting this right after Chapter 3, basically because I feel like it, and I thought it'd be better to get in all the explanations as soon as possible, or risk a high confusion factor. Hope this makes sense.

Chapter Four

When Harry woke the next day, he thought he'd dreamed the whole thing. He expected to sit up and find himself in a bright orange room, with Ron on the next bed. But when he sat up, he saw pale blue walls, navy carpet and a window with a view of Central Park. _It really happened,_ he thought, and everything came flooding back to him.

Death Eaters... Hermione and Malfoy... his Protectors, apparently... had been for five years... were actually _friends,_ believe it or not... Malfoy was allegedly a nice person, had nothing against any of them, despite acting as though he hated their guts for the past five years... he _cooked_... and he and Hermione had a New York apartment.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way that could be real. He had to have dreamed it up. It just didn't fit. None of it did.

Ron burst into his room. "Come quick. Hermione's up and Malfoy isn't around - I want to ask her some questions."

Together, they padded into the kitchen where Hermione was eating some cereal and reading the American version of the Daily Prophet. She looked up at them and smiled. "Did you sleep well?"

"No," Ron replied, looking furious. "What the hell's going on?"

Her smile faltered. "Ron, I explained last night."

"Yeah, OK, so you and Malfoy are Harry's Protectors. Great. Wonderful. But you can't seriously be telling us that Malfoy's a decent person? You do remember what he's been like, these past few years?"

Hermione groaned. "Ron! Did you listen at all last night? I've known Draco for years - the Draco you know is a fake Draco, invented to keep everyone safe. You have to forget about that Draco now, and accept the real one."

"Speaking of who's real," Ron continued, "what about you? You've hardly been honest with us  in the time that we've known you. How do we know that you aren't one of _them_? That you and Malfoy haven't got some little plot to kidnap us all and take us to You-Know-Who?"

"Ron, I-"

"No! You've been sneaking around, behind our backs, having your secret little meetings, and sharing information. You're no better than a dirty, underhanded Slytherin, and-" the rest of his sentence died in his throat, when he found a wand just millimetres from his heart. Harry had to admire Malfoy's speed and agility. He'd seen him approaching out of the corner of his eye, but the second Ron had started in on Hermione, Malfoy had shot across the room in seconds.

"Don't you ever," he said, breathing hard and speaking in tones that only conveyed imminent danger, "speak to her like that again, or I'll rip your throat out."

Ron's eyes grew wide. "Y-You see? He's threatening me!"

Harry felt that perhaps it was time to intervene. "Ron, you did just insult his best friend."

Malfoy looked at him, surprised, and Harry could have sworn he saw a spark of gratitude behind Malfoy's otherwise impassive eyes. Hermione placed her hand on Malfoy's arm, and he lowered his wand. Ron immediately stepped back.

Someone cleared their throat. The four of them looked round, and sure enough, watching them through the window into the living room, was the entire Weasley family. "Morning," said Malfoy.

"Yes, um... morning," said Mr Weasley. Fred and George looked highly amused.

Hermione stood up and, with a wave of her hand, her cereal bowl was clean. Harry frowned. Last night, she'd conjured extra chairs out of nowhere - how? They hadn't done Conjuring Charms at school yet, let alone _wandless_ charms of any sort. And there was something else, too - if his memory served him correctly, she'd Apparated last night. Apparated. From England to New York. They'd never even touched a book on Apparating and Disapparating at school, and Harry didn't see how she could have practised, anyhow, since as she was so fond of saying, you couldn't Apparate or Disapparate at Hogwarts. She waved her hand a second time, and the clean bowl vanished - Harry guessed that she'd returned it to its cupboard. "I'll be leaving for the shops in an hour; will you be ready by then, Ginny?"

Ginny grinned and nodded.

Malfoy watched as Hermione left to get changed. "You'd better be back before Dumbledore gets here!" he called after her. "I hate making awkward conversation!"

*                              *                              *

Awkward conversation, Harry reflected, seemed to be occurring anyway. Mr and Mrs Weasley were talking to Moody in the kitchen, leaving the rest of the Weasleys, minus Ginny, with Harry and Malfoy.

Bill and Charlie, having never really suffered by Malfoy's hand, had adjusted to the change that had occurred over the last 24 hours with relative ease, and were now busy trying to figure out how the TV worked.

Ron's distrust of Malfoy meant that he was sitting as far away from him as possible, watching him like a hawk. Harry was unsure of what to do; he'd just learnt that Malfoy was supposed to be Protecting him. Somehow it didn't feel right to insult him anymore.

"Malfoy?" he asked, tentatively.

"Potter?" Malfoy replied, with just a trace of a smirk.

"Um..." having started to speak, he found that he didn't really know what he wanted to say, "how did Hermione do that - you know - hand-waving thing?"

Malfoy grinned - a very strange, almost creepy sight. "She's a very powerful witch, you know. Spends a lot of her time training, trying to further her knowledge and become better at... everything."

Fred snorted. "Is that even possible?"

"You wouldn't think so, would you?" Malfoy shrugged. "All I know is, if she didn't, you probably wouldn't be alive now. It isn't just Harry she protects, you know."

Ron frowned. "You mean... she protects all of us?"

"Not officially," he replied. "Officially it's just Harry, because that's the way it's supposed to be. But I know for a fact that she's put spells on you lot, too, to keep you safe."

Charlie sat up suddenly. "Last year," he said, "a week after I'd seen her during the summer, I got breathed on by a dragon. I should have been burned to death, but I didn't even singe an eyebrow."

Malfoy nodded. "Sounds like Hermione's doing. She saves you all the time, in so many different ways, and you never would have known if this whole thing hadn't happened..."

"Yeah," said Harry, "speaking of 'this whole thing', I don't suppose you'd like to tell us exactly what happened last night? All I know is that a bunch of Death Eaters turned up, started to do their 'We're Evil' song and dance, and then they got vamoosed by Hermione. Anything else is just one big grey area for me."

"Which is more than can be said for your brain, I'm sure," Malfoy commented dryly, but proceeded to explain things anyway. "Last night, they broke the wards on the Burrow. We don't know how, and we're not really sure why - obviously, we know why they'd want you, Potter, but it strikes us as odd that they tried to take all of the Weasleys as well. Normally they'd just kill them; they must have wanted something, but we're still trying to work out what that might be. Anyway, the point is, Voldemort's Death Eaters tried to get at you. Now, Potter, you've been linked to me and Hermione by something called a Bonding Charm - it basically tells us that you're in danger and you need help. So we knew that we needed to get to you as soon as possible last night.

"The great thing about the Bonding Charm is that it also serves as a locator, of sorts. We got onto Dumbledore and the Order right away, of course, then zoomed over there to help you out. Hermione did her great little Vanishing act on the Death Eaters, and voila. Here we are. Incidentally, the reason Hermione stayed behind at the Burrow last night was to replace its wards, but you're not going back there for a while."

"What about our stuff?" asked Ron, looking annoyed.

"Dumbledore's getting it. He's going over there today to check the wards, and then he's Apparating over here to see you lot."

Harry sat back and let the surreality of it all wash over him. Draco Malfoy - civil. Who would have thought it? Well, apart from that brain comment, but that had to be expected from someone who'd spent five years pretending to be a complete and utter prat.... He heard the click of a door opening, and everyone looked round to see Hermione and Ginny stumble through the door, laden with big bags.

"You're back early," said Malfoy, getting up, and Harry almost cracked up - he sounded like a husband.

Hermione smiled at him as he took her bags. "Thanks. Bloomingdales was like a war zone; we only managed a couple of hours, and then people started throwing things, and we thought it'd be better to get out of there."

Malfoy shook his head in disbelief. "Mad. Both of you. Why put yourselves through that, just for clothes?"

"Hey!" Hermione fished in one of the bags, and pulled out an assortment of garments. "I wasn't just shopping for me, you know. They had a bunch of stuff in your size, 70% off - I couldn't resist."

Harry watched in amusement as Malfoy dubiously looked through his clothes. Then he brightened. "Armani! Thanks!"

Hermione just grinned some more and hauled her bags into her room, leaving Malfoy to sort out his new acquisitions. Her voice carried back into the living room. "Would you put some music on? I feel like something punchy."

"Punchy?" Malfoy  sounded doubtful, but ambled on over to the CD collection anyway. "Any preferences?"

"Just... nothing by Nickelback, OK? I'm not in the mood."

"'Not in the mood'." Malfoy repeated under his breath. "How are you supposed to know when you _are_ in the mood for Nickelback? Or any of these groups, for that matter? Honest to God, who comes up with these names? 'Staind'? 'Lifehouse'?"

"I can hear you!" Hermione yelled from her room.

"I don't care!" 

"You will if I burn your entire Armani collection!"

Malfoy gasped, and when he spoke, his voice was an octave higher. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me!"

He hurriedly pushed a CD into the stereo. "Michelle Branch. Is that good enough for you?"

"Draco! Have you seen my lip gloss?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have. It's in my room, with all your other make-up, which I put on at night to make myself feel pretty."

Hermione stuck her head out of her room. "I knew you were gay!" Harry noted with considerable concern, that her shoulders were bare.

Her words struck a cord with Malfoy, because his eyes narrowed and he began advancing on her. "Watch it," he said through gritted teeth, "or I might just come in there and show you how gay I am."

A tense silence filled the room, as five Weasleys and a Potter slowly rose to their feet, ready and willing to defend the honour of their friend. Hermione noticed and smiled at them. Malfoy turned and looked suitably alarmed. "I was joking!" he said hastily.

"I sincerely hope you were, Mr Malfoy," said a severe voice from the doorway, "or I might have to rethink the wisdom of these living arrangements."

"Professor Dumbledore!" shrieked Hermione happily. 

Malfoy glared at her. "Get dressed!" he hissed, trying to block her from view. She retreated inside her room.

Dumbledore's gaze lit on Harry. "Ah! You're here, safe and sound. Good. We have much to discuss."

Mr and Mrs Weasley emerged from the kitchen, with Moody, to greet Dumbledore. They shared a few minutes of what Harry took to be adult, Order-related conversation, and then separated. Dumbledore gestured to the kitchen. "Would you come with me, Harry?"

Numbly, Harry followed, wondering what would come next. Could he receive any stranger news than he already had done? He didn't think so, but he supposed anything was possible. The two of them sat down at the table, and for a few moments, Harry felt the unnerving sensation of being surveyed by someone who knew precisely what he was thinking. Eventually, Dumbledore spoke. "I imagine you would like to know a number of things, starting, perhaps, with why I neglected to tell you that you had two Protectors?" 

Harry nodded.

"I assume Miss Granger has already informed you of how important it is to keep various aspects of this a secret? Very well; then I have no need to repeat things. I will say only this - I had thought that if I told you of your special Protection, it might make you more... confident. Too confident - cocky, even. I didn't want that. Nor did I wish for anyone around you to be placed in danger by this knowledge. That is why I kept it a secret. If you want to be angry and shout, by all means do so, but I trust that you will see why I did what I did. Do you?"

Harry nodded again, and glanced through the window into the living room where, he saw, Hermione had emerged, and was talking animatedly to Malfoy.

"You wonder how you could have missed it, maybe? How two people could be so very close and yet conceal it from everyone else? It was difficult for them, at first; for Mr Malfoy, in particular. He objected very much to the idea of spending every day insulting someone he... cares for."

Harry looked at Dumbledore curiously. "Are they really that close?"

Dumbledore tilted his head in surprise. "Close? Harry, they... I had thought you might have noticed."

"Noticed what?"

The older wizard leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I do believe they are in love."

---------------------------

I'd really appreciate your thoughts and opinions. It helps me work better.


	5. APA: Chapter 5

**Author's Note**: Thanks to Athene Saile for the great review – I love knowing that people are reading my fic. There are more explanations in this chapter, so hopefully things will get clearer for you. Any questions – you know which button to hit. Enjoy.

Chapter Five

When Harry emerged from the kitchen half an hour later, he paid close attention to his two Protectors. _Of course, _he thought, _of course they're in love. How is it possible that I didn't see that in the first place?_

The way Malfoy watched her, all the time. Even if she was right next to him, he watched her. When she got up to do the tiniest, most trivial thing, his eyes followed her all the way. And the look in them never changed. It was the look of someone who has found something, something so wonderful that even now, they cannot believe it is true. And all they want to do is hold on tight because they fear that if they let go, they'll never find that something again.

Hermione... Hermione was so _fond_ of him. She watched him, too, but in a different way. She watched him with worry in her eyes. A worry that seemed to say, '_I know you care for me now, but will you ever stop?_' She smiled at him, every chance she got. And he reveled in it. He took every smile and bathed in it, as though he'd spent his whole life in the darkness and now she was showing him what light was.

And he kept touching her! At first, Harry had been unable to understand why on Earth she would let him touch her so much. But after Dumbledore had explained it, it seemed obvious - the contact with him helped to reassure both of them that the other was still there. Malfoy would lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, or in the small of her back, or sometimes he'd fiddle with her hair. On one occasion, she'd put her feet in his lap, and he'd just put one hand on top of them, not tickling or massaging, just _there_, and it made both of them happy.

Despite all this closeness, however, one thing was clear - they had not crossed the line. And Harry felt certain that they would not until such a time that all imminent danger had been dealt with. It made him feel sad, but he pushed the feeling aside - they had more pressing things to deal with.

Dumbledore had finally told him everything. Well, as much of 'everything' as he could expect to get at this stage; the Professor did like keeping things back and springing them on him at the oddest of times. The Granger-Malfoy Prophecy, as it was apparently known, was, while quite definitive on the subject of the Protectors, not exactly specific about who they would be Protecting. Which, Harry supposed, was why it had taken Dumbledore a considerable amount of time to connect it to the Potter Prophecy.

_Of the ninth, and then the first, two opposites shall arise. Their bond is old and strong; its shroud fortifies it and through adversity it grows, wielding that which will keep safe another, and more. Both are marked, but it is unseen; their feet share this fate. Death for one means the same for the other - such is their bond. Together and combined, they possess a power to challenge the enemies of their charge, but the one true enemy must stand alone, lest the two should fall._

He'd had to read it again in order to fully understand it. "They have something on their feet?"

Dumbledore nodded. "A scar. Almost identical - it was how I finally knew."

"How else did you know?"

"I suspected when they met at this wizard camp. I had, of course, been keeping an eye on all those witches and wizards born in September and the following January. The 'opposites' part was somewhat unclear, but I suspected it meant the opposition of a 'pureblood' to a so-called 'mudblood', although I do despise that term. When they formed a friendship at the camp, which only grew as time went on, I became almost certain that it was them. I reviewed your own prophecy, of course, and it began to make sense. Why else would two Protectors be born in the same year as yourself? I met with Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger, inspected their feet, and all of my doubts were washed away."

Harry felt overwhelmed. Out of the many questions that were plaguing his mind, he picked one. "H-Hermione can Apparate?"

"Ah, I see that particular aspect of the prophecy has been revealed. Both Hermione and Draco can Apparate, and perform various spells without a wand. I taught them myself, so that they might be better equipped to look after you. I am also told that Hermione teaches herself at intervals."

"And... the apartment?"

"For their own safety. I wished them to have a heavily guarded abode for the times that they needed to be together without arousing suspicion. It also makes a good location to practise spells and charms, as I believe they do. It is one of the safest places for a witch or wizard to be, if they want to remain hidden from the world and those who seek them. You think it is inappropriate?"

"No, no," Harry shook his head hastily. "It just surprises me, the idea of them living together without killing each other."

Dumbledore chuckled. "You have only ever known the Draco and Hermione who hate each other with a passion and would like nothing more than to see the other dead. I, however, have had the good fortune to know two very different people. Two people who depend on each other, couldn't live without each other, and if one of them were killed, the other would stop at nothing to get revenge. It is a formidable relationship."

Harry nodded. "I'll say."

They returned to the living room, and Dumbledore took Malfoy and Hermione aside for a few minutes. Harry watched them carefully. Sure enough, Hermione leant against the wall, and Malfoy followed suit, sidling up to her so that their arms had full-length contact. She glanced at him, smiled, and looked away again. And he watched her. Always watched her.

Ron came over. "What did Dumbledore say?"

"A bunch of stuff," Harry said vaguely, intent on watching the events that were unfolding on the opposite side of the room.

Ron realised this, and did the same. "How can she stand being around him so much?"

Harry glanced at him, and remembered that Ron didn't know. _No-one_ knew. And he realised with a sinking feeling that they would probably need it pointing out to them. "Ron... you know how Malfoy and Hermione have been friends for ages? Well, I think they feel-"

But he didn't get a chance to tell Ron how he thought Malfoy and Hermione felt, because Dumbledore turned around, clapped his hands together and said, "Let's get down to business, then." All twelve of them found themselves a seat, and watched Dumbledore as he paced up and down. "Mr Malfoy tells me that he has told you all he knows about what happened last night. Well, I have some new information for you, although I doubt very much that you will like it. Voldemort intended to kill not two but three birds with one stone last night."

Harry's eyes flicked over towards Malfoy and Hermione, but their faces were deliberately blank. He returned his gaze to Dumbledore.

"Voldemort wished to kidnap you again, Harry, probably to kill you. He would also have intended to kill the Weasley family, because as purebloods they were expected to side with him, but they did not, and so he wants them dead."

Ginny gave a faint whimper, and clung to her pale mother's arm.

"However, he would have waited to do both of these things, for you see, his ultimate goal in kidnapping you all was not to kill you, but to use you to lure other people to him. Namely, Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger. He does not know it is them, of course - he knows Harry has two Protectors, but like most people, he doesn't know who they are."

"So," said Harry, "he was going to use us all as bait, so that Malfoy and Hermione-"

"You know," Malfoy cut in, "it wouldn't kill you to use my first name." Hermione elbowed him in the ribs; he returned the favour. One short scuffle later, and Hermione was looking very smug, watching Malfoy as he nursed a bruised rib cage.

"As I was saying," Harry continued, unable to keep a small smile off his face, "Voldemort was going to use us as bait, and wait for Hermione and Mal- _Draco_, to come and save us. Um... not to sound like an imbecile, or anything-"

"Too late," Malfoy whispered, but he was promptly silenced by another jab from Hermione.

"-but why? I mean, if he wanted to kill them because they're my Protectors, and by killing them he could get to me more easily, then why bother kidnapping us at all? Why not just kill us? He broke the wards on the Burrow, for crying out loud, and got access to me and the Weasleys, so why go through all of the rigmarole of drawing Mal- _Draco_ and Hermione in to kill them just so he could kill me when he already had me to kill in the first place!" He stopped - his head was aching like hell, and he was certain that continuing with that vein of thought would most likely have ended up driving him insane.

"Not everything is about you, Potter," Draco drawled, looking slightly irritated.

"Oh, so we're back to last names, are we?" Harry snapped. "Why don't you just shut up for once in your life?"

"You know what your problem is? You're too damn self-centred, that's what. You swan in here, all ready to assume that this whole thing is all about you, and you don't even stop to consider the possibility that-"

"Self-centred?! I've never met anyone more self-centred, egotistical and conceited than you, Draco bloody Malfoy, and don't for one minute think that the whole 'Kiss-me-I'm-an-arsehole' image actually works-"

"If you two don't shut up right now," said Hermione quietly, "I will put the Full Body-Bind on you, wrap you up in brown paper and sellotape, and personally send you, via air mail, to Voldemort himself, and don't think I won't. Now, if I hear so much as a peep out of you in the next ten minutes, I'll carry out my threat, OK?"

Both boys nodded mutely.

Dumbledore had the good grace to look impressed before continuing with his explanation. "As I was saying, Voldemort wants Draco and Hermione. Why? Well, he does indeed want to kill them, as they are well aware, but not for the reasons you might think. It has recently come to light that Voldemort has gained access to the Malfoy-Granger Prophecy. However, he now has the full version."

Harry, forgetting his promise, said, "_Full_ version? But I thought-"

"Full Body Bind, Harry," said Hermione in a sing-song voice, and Harry shut up.

"It appears that my own copy of Trelawney's prophecy had one very small but vital part missing. It reads as follows: _Should the bond be broken by death's curse at the same moment in time, the resulting force will-_."

"Will what?" asked Ron, speaking in Harry's place.

Dumbledore shook his head. "There is not a copy in the world which can answer that question. Professor Trelawney was interrupted by her sister, who believed that she was ill and needed to be woken up. It is unlikely that we will ever know what came after that. Voldemort's belief, however, is that Draco and Hermione's bond will, if broken by killing them at the same time, result in a shockwave of power which will flatten all buildings and trees, and kill all people within a certain distance-"

"A bomb," said Hermione tonelessly. "He thinks we're a bomb."

"I believe that is an accurate assessment, yes," said Dumbledore carefully.

Draco looked to Hermione for permission to speak, but she just sighed, so he turned back to Dumbledore and said, "What does he plan to do, then? Kill us and find out? That doesn't exactly sound very wise, does it? I mean, anything could happen. We could... I don't know... implode, or something, or become a black hole and suck everything into it. He'd never put himself at risk, would he? Not without just cause."

Moody broke in, gruffly. "We hear he's consulting everyone he can get his hands on; trying to see what he can find out."

"In the meantime," said Dumbledore, "you all need to stay here. If just one of you were seen, you could potentially lead Voldemort to everyone else. I realise you and Miss Weasley went out this morning, Miss Granger, but you did take the necessary precautions, did you not?"

"If you mean Concealment Charms, then yes."

"Good. But I'd rather that everyone stays inside, from now on. I believe you have methods of getting any supplies you might need?"

"Something called the 'Internet', apparently," said Moody, with no small amount of suspicion.

Hermione cracked a small smile, and nodded.

"Very well; I will leave you now, but I will be back very soon. In the meantime, Alastor, you should get back to Headquarters. I will send a replacement very soon. Put the word out that the Weasleys and Harry have gone to ground in Wales."

Moody nodded, and with a _crack_ he had Apparated away. Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger - could I have a word, please?"

The two of them disappeared into the kitchen. Harry glanced across at Draco and saw him not-so-subtly craning his neck to try and see what was going on. Then he saw Harry watching him. "What?" he snapped.

Harry leaned forward. "You might try being a little less conspicuous. I should warn you, Ron's had a bit of a thing for Hermione for the last couple of years."

Draco sneered at him. "And why should that concern me? Other than being useful taunting fodder, of course."

"You know," said Harry, exasperated, "everyone's saying that the real Draco Malfoy is totally different from the total sod I've known for the last five years. But so far, I've seen no evidence of that at all. I'm _trying _to help you here. Do you know how obvious you're making it?"

"Making what?"

"The fact that you're in love with my best friend!" Harry hissed, trying to keep his voice down.

Draco blinked. Several times. "I have no interest in that red-headed oaf whatsoever."

Harry had to tamp down the urge to wring Draco's neck. "I am not," he said through gritted teeth, "talking about Ron. I am talking about Hermione. You can deny it all you want, but you clearly love her, and I just thought that you might want to make it a little less obvious because you see all these red-heads here? If they thought you might hurt her, they'd kill you. And believe me, as far as they're concerned, you've done nothing but hurt her for the last five bloody years."

Draco looked stunned. "But... I haven't. She knows I was only pretending. And I never would hurt her, OK? Never..."

Harry was silent for a moment. Then, "I know. And the Weasleys wouldn't kill you, either. Maim, yes. Kill, no. Besides, if you get killed, Hermione dies too, right?"

Draco looked at him, bewildered. "What?"

"You know! In the prophecy. _If one dies, the other will too, blah blah, their bond, blah blah blah..._"

"Potter," said Draco, looking slightly amused now, "if all you heard was 'blah blah' then perhaps you should read the thing again. It says, '_Death for one means the same for the other - such is their bond._' But it doesn't literally mean that if one of us dies, the other does too. Listen to it carefully: _Death for one means the same for the other_. If one dies, it _means_ the same for the other. So, basically, if Hermione died, it would mean a death, of sorts, for me too. But I would die inside, if you get my meaning."

Harry stared at him. "You... you really have that kind of bond?"

"Yes," said Draco simply.

Harry was about to say something when the door to the kitchen opened, and Hermione came out, followed by Dumbledore. Her face, as usual, was expressionless. Dumbledore bid them farewell, and was just about to Disapparate, when Harry remembered something, "Professor!"

Dumbledore looked at him curiously; indeed, everyone did, and Harry felt a little self-conscious. "Um... Hermione was saying that they're not allowed to Protect me if I go into battle with Voldemort. I was just wondering... why?"

"Recall, if you can, your own prophecy, Harry. You remember what it said about you and Voldemort, and what must happen between you?" Harry nodded. "Well, if your Protectors were to intervene, then they might end up interfering with the prophecy, and what it predicts. That cannot be allowed to happen. Thus, if you ever come face to face with Voldemort, it must be you and you alone who takes him on. Do you understand?" Harry nodded again, and Dumbledore smiled, and Disapparated.

--------------------

OK, abrupt ending, I know, but it just felt like the right place to end this chapter. Feedback would be good round about now, since I haven't yet finished chapter six and I want to know if I should carry on with this. 


	6. APA: Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: Hmmm. Not as pleased with this chapter as I have been with the previous – no significant events to speak of; some minor explanations, nothing big. Seems a bit like filler to me, but I'd like your opinions all the same. Muchos thankos to my reviewers (my spell checker is going haywire with all this mangled English):

**Sesella Stellae** – I know – romantic scenes have been few and far between in this fic, but there's a tiny little something in this chapter that might satisfy you. I just don't want to have them all over each other too soon (but rest assured, there will be a point where they are all over each other).

**Dracosgurl** – thanks for the compliments; I'm glad you like the story

**Twisted Silver Dagger** – (previously Crazy Bitch, am I right?) thanks for all the reviews; I like knowing people's thoughts as the story progresses, and you've got some great comments for me. You're right about the revealing information abruptly thing – I am hopeless at building suspense. Hence, I tend to just blurt things out instead of working up to it. *Sigh*

**lxl-water-spirit-lxl** – yay! For the encouragement. I was just a teensy bit worried since I only had a few reviews and was starting to think it was a lost cause. And, yes, Draco/Hermione rules. As if I even needed to tell you that.

**Athene Saile** – I mention all my reviewers! You make me happy!

**Broom** – short, sweet and to the point – thanks!

**Kou Shun'u** – yes, this takes place in the summer before their sixth year. Glad to hear you'll be carrying on reading.

By the way, I've only just realised that my settings will not allow me to accept anonymous reviews – I've just changed this, so please do review if you get a chance.

Chapter Six

The next few days were among the strangest that Harry had ever experienced. Fights were common, and expected, since Ron, Fred and George were hardly happy about being cooped up with Draco Malfoy. But Harry... Harry found himself starting to get along with him. At first it has only been out of necessity - it seemed to make sense that he should be on good terms with someone who was supposed to be his Protector. But following their unspoken pact to try and be civil to each other, Harry found himself actually beginning to like the blond Slytherin - not that he'd admit that to Ron, or anyone else, for that matter. Well, possibly Hermione.

Something else happened to improve his mood, too: Lupin arrived. He, it transpired, was Moody's replacement, and had been sent to look after them all. He greeted Hermione and Draco quite warmly, and thanked them profusely for looking after Harry for five years. Apparently, Lupin had known that Harry had Protectors, but he didn't know who they were.

"How come," Harry asked, once they'd settled down, "everyone's getting told who my Protectors are now? What happened to 'utmost secrecy', and everything?"

Lupin sipped his tea and regarded Harry with calm eyes. "Secrecy doesn't seem to matter much to Dumbledore anymore. The fact is, Hermione was seen by fourteen Death Eaters at the Burrow. She used advanced magic to save you; that kind of thing isn't going to go unreported. Our only saving grace right now is that Draco wasn't seen. It won't be easy for them to work out who she's been working with all these years."

A wave of cold washed over Harry. He glanced across to where Hermione lay on the sofa, dozing, watched closely by Draco. The notion that Voldemort might use them as a weapon and kill them in the process brought bile up in his throat.

Lupin followed his gaze. "Dumbledore mentioned that they have a ... special relationship."

Harry looked over at him and immediately suspected that Lupin knew more about this than he was letting on. "Do you... think they'll ever be together? I mean, really together?"

"I wish I knew."

Hermione was completely asleep now. Draco stood up and whispered, "I'll put her to bed." He bent down and slipped his arms underneath her frail form. Harry had thought the movement would wake her up, but she just shifted into Draco's arms and he carried her away effortlessly.

Harry glanced across to Ron, who was busy having a rather violent game of chess, slamming his taken pieces onto the table with a great deal more viciousness than was strictly necessary. The last few days hadn't been pleasant for him - seeing Hermione so close to Draco Malfoy, sworn enemy, was a lot to cope with for someone who'd spent the last two years fancying her to bits.

Harry sighed. The whole ordeal had thrown everyone into a strange, robotic stupor. The Weasleys were slowly adapting to the fact that they were in mortal danger, and would continue to be so until Voldemort was killed. Harry wanted to tell them, speaking from experience, that it got easier to live with (ha), but the truth was, it didn't.

Lupin seemed to have an idea of how he was feeling, which relieved Harry no end. It was great having someone to talk to; someone who would give him real answers when he asked questions.

On one occasions, he managed to catch Hermione on her own. She hugged him and, before he could stop her, apologised profusely for not telling him the truth five years ago. She'd wanted to, she said, and it was so difficult to hold it back at times - like when he'd returned from that awful experience at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. "We were so confused," she'd said. "We'd been so worried throughout the entire Tournament, but other than do our best to keep an eye on you, help you out as much as possible and cast the protection charms, there wasn't a lot we could do. When you got to the centre of the maze... well, we knew you were in danger, of course - the Bonding Charm made sure of that. We told Dumbledore, but he didn't know any more than we did." She buried her head in her hands. "We should have done a better job of Protecting you. If we had... maybe things would have been different. And not just that year - all the years."

Harry had stared at her for a few moments. And then it hit him. He, Harry James Potter, was the only thing that mattered in her life. Protecting him was all she knew; her work only meant something because it might help her one day. If she failed with him... she failed with everything. And even though she loved Draco completely and utterly, she would not get involved because, in her eyes, it might compromise her effectiveness as a Protector. Harry couldn't explain how he knew this - he just did. And it stunned him. So much so, he almost forgot to comfort Hermione, who was still sitting there with her head in her hands. He put his arms around her - something he couldn't ever remember doing voluntarily; hadn't it always been _her _who flung herself at _him_? - and told her in no uncertain terms that he had never and would never hold her responsible for anything that had happened in the past five years. "I know you, Hermione. All this secrecy... it doesn't matter to me, because I _do_ still know you, and I know that you will have done the best you could have done. And I'm very grateful."

She'd snorted shakily. "I don't want you to be _grateful_, Harry. I want you to be safe."

"Me too." He agreed.

Through further talks with Hermione and Draco, Harry learnt a lot more. For example, Hermione had been with him through most of his experiences in past years. First year, she'd been with him up to the actual battle for, Harry realised now, obvious reasons. Second year, she'd been Petrified by the basilisk. Apparently Draco gone to Dumbledore, angry and wanting to come clean with Harry so that they could go and get the basilisk together. Dumbledore, needless to say, had vetoed this plan, and that was that. Third year, Hermione had been with him through it all, although that time he hadn't actually met Voldemort.

Fourth year... that had been the year that Hermione and Draco had finally begun to understand what they were up against. Both had been completely fooled by Crouch-Junior-as-Moody, and the truth, when it came out, terrified them. Their faith in their own abilities had been badly shaken; they'd wanted to tell Harry everything right then, but again, Dumbledore had said no.

"The summer after fourth year," Harry had said at one point, during a conversation with Draco, "when I ran into those Dementors - why didn't you come and help me?"

Draco looked shifty. "Ah. Yes. Well, that's a difficult one. We should have come. But as far as we both knew, you were being watched by the Order. We thought you'd be safe. Hermione was with Dumbledore and the Weasleys at Sirius Black's house when she got the feeling that you were in danger. She couldn't exactly Apparate out in front of a bunch of people who weren't supposed to know who she was. But she did say something to Dumbledore the second she got the chance, then spoke to me by Floo. Dumbledore told us to stay put, and he dealt with it."

But Harry was only half-listening now - his heart had clenched painfully at the reminder of Sirius. He suddenly found he had another, more important question. "Did... Did Sirius know about you two?"

Draco's eyes gave way to a flicker of concern, before returning to their usual emotionless grey state. "Like most people, he... he knew you had Protectors, but he didn't know who."

Harry was ashamed to hear his voice cracking slightly. "If he'd known..."

"Don't," Draco interrupted sharply. "Don't start thinking about the 'ifs'. You'll only make things harder for yourself."

"I can't help it. I just wish he was still here."

"We all do."

If someone had told Harry at any point over the last five years, that he would one day be sitting, close to tears, on a sofa with Draco Malfoy and pouring out some of his innermost feelings, he would have laughed scornfully and sent them to St. Mungo's. But to his own immense surprise, the two of them had formed a rudimentary kind of friendship over the past few days, which pleased Hermione a great deal. "Two of my best friends, getting along at last. I just wish... oh, Ron, give it up and get over here."

Ron heaved a great sigh and looked up from his wizard chess set. "I am busy, thank you very much."

At that exact moment, the white queen got into a huge catfight with Ron's black queen, and won, shouting a triumphant "Checkmate!" as she rolled her battered opponent off the edge of the board. He looked up dejectedly. "Or not so busy."

Hermione dragged him to the sofa where Draco was sitting. "Look... I know the two of you haven't got along for five years, so it's bound to be hard to drop the hostility, but... can you at least try?"

Ron glared at Draco suspiciously. Draco just looked placidly back at him. "I'm willing," he said, shrugging.

Ron took a deep breath. Harry mentally willed him to at least be nice about it, even if he didn't want to be Draco's friend - and that was practically a given. To Harry's relief, Ron nodded slightly, and stuck out his hand. Draco, surprised, shook it. Hermione beamed, and hugged both of them. "Thank you," she said, and ran off. Harry could hear faint sniffling from the bathroom.

Draco shook his head. "I think we may have just made her week."

Fred and George came into the room, each carrying a six-pack of butterbeer. "Alright, everyone?"

"You do know you can't get drunk on them, don't you?" asked Draco.

"What on Earth makes you think we plan to get drunk, Malfoy?" asked Fred, with a very un-Fred-like sneer. "We haven't got that depressed yet. No - we're merely stocking up on supplies." They continued on through to the kitchen and shoved the butterbeers into the fridge.

"Supplies!" exclaimed Hermione, emerging from the bathroom, without a trace of tears on her face. "Who might you be supplying?"

"Hermione," said George, with a touch of exasperation, "you're always so suspicious of us."

"Yeah," Fred chimed in. "We thought you might ease up on us a bit now we'd left school."

She raised an eyebrow. "You are joking, aren't you? If anything, I'll be watching you more closely. Two complete nutters, at large in the world without a serious thought in their brains? I should lock you in a cupboard."

"Ah, we'd only escape," said George, grinning.

"That's why I haven't bothered."

"Cupboard," repeated Draco, and wandered off dreamily.

The four remaining boys shot curious looks at Hermione, who simply twisted her mouth into a smile and said, "He does that sometimes."

He returned about fifteen minutes later and invited Hermione to throw knives at his head. Apparently this was nothing unusual, because Hermione promptly got up and took the multitude of silver-bladed weapons he was offering. He stood against the wall, positioning a large slab of thick wood behind his body and Hermione backed away to a point halfway across the room. The four of them looked on in a morbid fascination.

"Um," said Harry nervously.

"Don't worry, Harry,"said Hermione, not taking her eyes off Draco, "I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, Harry, she knows what she's doing," said Ron eagerly. Evidently the Malfoy-hating instinct hadn't been totally knocked out of him, then, thought Harry.

Hermione took one of the knives and placed the rest on the coffee table nearby. She stretched her arm back, and paused. She paused for so long, in fact, that Harry began to think she wasn't going to do it. Then, without warning, her arm came forward and the knife flew, incredibly fast, from her hand. It landed with a _thwack_ in the wooden board, just millimetres from Draco's ear. He remained perfectly still, and his expression didn't change.

Hermione did this a second time, then a third, and a fourth, until all ten knives had been used, and Draco was pinned in place. A couple of knives had snagged in the folds of his clothing, so he waited for Hermione to remove them before stepping away from the board.

"You... do this often, then?" asked Harry, more than a little worried. It just didn't seem right that his two Protectors, two people who, he reminded himself, were in love with each other, should spend their free time throwing knives at each other. He noted with alarm that Draco and Hermione were reversing their roles; Draco had the knives and Hermione stood against the board.

Suddenly Ron was not so enthusiastic. "I-I really don't think this is a good idea."

Neither replied; obviously this took a lot of concentration, and none could be spared to answer questions. Harry studied Draco's face carefully. To the untrained eye, it was impassive, flat. But Harry, who had begun to learn various ways of detecting emotions in Draco Malfoy, noticed two things. The first thing was that his jaw had tightened to the point where Harry was sure it would snap if it was tightened anymore. The second thing was that deep beneath the cold, hard grey of his eyes, Harry could see a flicker of something that plainly said, "I don't want to be here, doing this."

But still he pulled back his arm, and proceeded to do exactly as Hermione had done, tenderly helping her off the board when they'd finished. Only then did they answer the barrage of questions that came their way.

"What. The. Bloody. Hell?" was all Ron could manage before he had to sit down and take a nice, deep, relaxing breath.

Hermione glanced at Draco and said, "It's an exercise in trust. We started it just after first year. The fact was... neither of us were really sure about trusting each other after what we'd had to do. I wasn't used to a Draco who hated me, and he wasn't used to a Hermione who ignored him."

"So Dumbledore suggested this - knife-throwing. It's an excellent form of non-magical self-defence, _and_ it's our way of proving our trust to one another if we're feeling doubtful."

Harry looked from one to the other and frowned. He couldn't imagine, having seen and heard how they felt about each other, that either would ever have doubts of any kind, least of all about trust. And yet it made sense, in a strange, twisted way. Why shouldn't they, like every couple, have trust issues? _Because they're not a couple,_ said the rational part of his mind, _and whether you want to believe it or not, that's your fault._

*                              *                              *

"I can't believe we're doing this," hissed Ginny.

It was nearly midnight. All the Weasleys except Ginny had gone to bed an hour earlier, but Hermione and Draco were still up. As were Harry and Ginny, although their predicaments couldn't be more different. Harry, in a fit of guilt over the current state of Draco and Hermione's relationship, had decided that his best contribution at that point would be to try and get them together. In order to do that, he needed information, and to get information, he needed to run a reconnaissance mission. For which Ron would be utterly useless. As far as Harry could tell, Ron's feelings for Hermione did not even come close to Draco's, but that didn't change the fact that he still had those feelings. Hence, dragging Ron on a mission which, Harry hoped, would ultimately end in Hermione and Draco getting together, probably wasn't the best course of action.

So he'd enlisted Ginny instead. Ginny, who, as Hermione's best female friend, had noticed early on that there was something between them. Her attempts at interrogation had proved fruitless, so when Harry had approached her talking about a possible suicide mission, she'd jumped at the chance. After all, who cared if they would face certain death if they were discovered?

This was the reason that they were currently huddled under the invisibility cloak, creeping as silently as possibly towards the door of the living room. They tiptoed inside and found Hermione sitting Indian-style on the sofa, wriggling her toes and reading a book. She reached up and absently pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. It was such a typical Hermione movement that Harry almost believed that they were back in the Gryffindor Common Room; that he and Ron had just returned from some midnight jaunt and Hermione had waited up for them so she could scold them as usual. He was about to remove the invisibility cloak and greet her, when there was a burst of noise from behind him.

He and Ginny jumped, and turned around. It took Harry a few seconds to realise that the noise was not Death Eaters bursting into the house; it was, in fact, music. It sounded vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn't place it. Then Draco strolled into the room, an exceptionally cheery expression on his face. They watched as he approached Hermione, still engrossed in her book.

She looked up at him and clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I can't believe you've still got this ridiculous obsession."

"Hey!" Draco looked indignant. "There's no need to be so crude. Now, while I will admit that liking Frank Simadra-"

"_Sinatra _- how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Sinatra, then - it might be ridiculous, but it's not an obsession."

"Define 'obsession'," Hermione muttered, but Harry could tell that she was only joking.

"Anyway," said Draco, tickling her toes gently, "you did promise."

Hermione slammed her book shut and stared up at him incredulously. "I most certainly did not!"

"You did!"

"Ha! I said that I might, possibly, maybe think about considering teaching you. I didn't say that I would."

"But you implied it."

"Why, you-" she socked him on the arm, but he caught her hand as it swung and pulled her into a standing position.

"You know you want to," he leered, moving closer to her.

Harry, still watching, began to worry about exactly what it was that Hermione had said she'd teach Draco. His fears were dispelled, however, when he saw Hermione sigh and arrange it so that she and Draco were in what was obviously a dancing position. "See, you move your feet forwards, and I move mine backwards. You have to lead me. Ugh, this is such a fast song to learn to; are you sure you don't want something slower?"

"Very sure," said Draco, and so they danced. Harry marvelled at their ability to dance so well together; Draco's smoothness, Hermione's easy grace. They blended into one another, spinning and twirling and dipping across the room. By the time they were finished, her face was slightly flushed and her eyes were sparkling.

"You don't need to be taught," she said, stepping away from him.

He closed the gap once again and raised a hand to her hair. "Oh yes I do," he breathed, "just not dancing."

They stared at each other for a long time, and Harry had the feeling that this kind of thing happened quite often, but that they never actually crossed the line. The wave of guilt and sadness crashed over him once more. He watched as, slowly, Hermione blinked and gulped. "Your turn," she whispered, and closed her eyes, as though in preparation for a particularly painful slap.

Draco watched her for a second, then closed his eyes in the same way as Hermione had done. "I... We can't do this," he said.

She nodded and opened her eyes, smiling weakly at him. "I know."

Harry felt sick. He knew exactly what had just happened and he didn't like it one bit. He dragged a confused Ginny out of the room, unable to watch any more. She followed him to his room, and only when they were inside did she throw off the invisibility cloak and ask, "What the hell was that?"

He sat down on the edge of his bed, a heavy weight inside him dragging him down. "I... I think it's happened before."

"What has? The dancing?"

He shook his head. "No. The whole almost-kiss thing. And... they take it in turns - they bloody take it in turns! - to tell each other that they can't do it. Oh, my God..." He put his head in his hands.

Ginny sat down next to him. "Why would they do that to themselves?"

He laughed harshly. "Why do you think? Me, of course. They're so obsessed with looking after me, they won't even let themselves get involved with each other."

Without warning, Ginny hit him hard on the arm. "Will you stop bloody wallowing in guilt for once?"

Harry rubbed his arm and pouted. "I can't help it. It just comes naturally."

"Well, it's not going to do anyone any good. If you're serious about getting them together, you'll have to ditch the guilt and self-pity and focus on the mission. Can you do that?"

He knew she was right. "Yeah, OK."

"Good. Then we actually have a chance of success."

When she'd gone, Harry sat and thought about everything - the prophecies, Hermione and Draco, the past five years. He thought long and hard, considering everything from every angle. By the time he fell asleep, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and the birds had been tweeting happily for the best part of an hour.

----------------

Thoughts? I welcome all comments, even flames (although no flames is a bonus).


	7. APA: Chapter 7

**Author's Note**: OK, this chapter is a bit smaller than some of the previous ones, mainly because there wasn't a lot that could go in it before The Big Event. Well, I think it's big. Maybe I'm just kidding myself. Anyway, my next chapter might not be up for a little while – I'm currently having a power struggle with a plot bunny, and I have no idea how it's going to go. Confused you enough yet? OK then. Major thanks to all of my reviewers, again.

**Kou Shun'u** – wow. Thanks. You've just renewed my confidence in Chapter 6. I didn't think it was that good, but you've said such lovely things… grinning wildly right now.

**Jelly bean** – got your e-mail, thanks. I'm glad you liked the gay thing. I don't know where it came from, really, but it just seemed to fit the moment. 'Fabulous writer'? Moi? My head is swelling…

**Fuzzywuggle** – love the name. And thanks for the info re: black holes. I know nothing about them – I suppose I really shouldn't write about what I don't know, but it just happened, and… bleurgh. Forgive me?

**lxl-water-spirit-lxl** – you have no idea how difficult it is to type your name. I produce a chapter a day, usually – I'm glad you like it.

**Jordan** – thanks, I've been hoping not to get a flame, and so far I'm doing OK. Hope you like this chapter.

**Aurora** – I am so happy you like the way Draco is – I was worried for a long time that I'd just crapped it up, but if he works for you…

**Brokenflower** – I can't wait to read this similar story of yours – please write it anyway, however like mine it might be. Glad you like the story!

**Athene Saile** – I know what you mean about filler chapters – take this chapter, for instance – I read it over, and it seems like filler the whole way through, but when you get to the end, it should make more sense. I hope. Gah, panic attack…

Chapter Seven

Neither Draco nor Hermione acted any differently the next day, but, as Harry correctly suspected, they'd had plenty of practice with that kind of thing. Only Harry and Ginny had any idea that anything had happened, and out of respect they said nothing.

"We could lock them in a room together," suggested Ginny, as they sat on the sofas and watched TV.

Harry shook his head. "A) Too obvious, and B) they'd easily escape."

"Well, do you have any better ideas?" she asked snippily.

He considered it. "No... but I'm working on it."

"Of course you are."

Ginny, it seemed, though having spent the first part of this ordeal whimpering and clutching any family members she could get her hands on, was now much calmer and focused - probably because she actually had something to focus on now. Matchmaking was one of her favourite activities - God knew, she'd tried to set Ron and Hermione up enough times in the past.

_Speaking of Ron,_ Harry thought, as the boy in question padded into the room with a bowl of cereal. Harry resolved to have a talk with him as soon as possible - he couldn't afford to be anything less than honest if he was going to go ahead with this matchmaking thing.

But before he got a chance to corner Ron, Fred and George stood up and tapped their spoons loudly against their empty milk glasses.

"We have an announcement to make," said Fred.

"Oh my God! You're getting married!" shrieked Ginny, laughing, but she shut up when George fixed an icy glare on her.

"As I was saying," Fred continued, smiling, "we have an announcement to make. As you know, these last few days have been pretty stressful for all of us, and we thought it was time to... destress."

"Fred Weasley, if any of your next words happen to be Weasleys, Wizard or Wheezes, I will hit you," said Hermione, looking highly suspicious.

George sighed and sat down next to her. "Hermione, dear, one day you'll want my help, and I hate to say this, but I might not want to give it to you if you keep acting like we're criminals, or something."

Draco sneered. "I doubt she'll ever be wanting _your _help. Unless, maybe, she wanted to learn how to be an idiot."

Hermione gasped and admonished him. "Draco, there was no need for that. What's got into you?"

Harry had to admit that it really didn't seem like Draco to say something like that. Which, when he thought about it, was testament to how much things had changed over the past few days. Then he saw it - the thing that had made Draco change from being a vaguely pleasant person to being an insulting, sneering sod. George, when he'd sat down, had flung his hand over the back of the sofa, and although to any impartial observer it would look like a casual, comfortable position, to Draco it could easily seem as though George was encroaching upon his territory.

Draco stared with narrowed eyes at George for a few seconds, then suddenly stood up and walked off. Hermione sighed and began to stand up herself. Harry, surprising everyone, including himself, held out a hand to stop her. "It's OK," he said, "I'll go."

Hermione frowned, confused. "But-"

"Really. I'll go." In a desperate attempt to make her understand, he gave a tiny nod in the direction of George's arm. She looked over as inconspicuously as possible, saw it, and realisation flooded her face. She nodded, and Harry moved off towards the kitchen.

He found Draco contemplating a large meat cleaver, and gulped. "Y-You know... murder is a crime... and George is a good bloke, really."

Draco looked up, surprised, and hurriedly replaced the meat cleaver in the drawer. "Believe it or not, I wasn't actually going to kill him. Severely injure him, possibly. Maybe cut off his arm. Or just his fingers, who knows?"

Harry grinned. "I know for a fact that neither of them have any interest in each other whatsoever. She only has eyes for you."

"I love her," said Draco unexpectedly.

Harry nodded. "I know. And as much as I never, ever thought I'd say this, I'm glad. I think you'll make a great couple."

"You sound awfully confident that we'll get together."

"I've never felt more confident about anything in my life."

They were silent for a little while, then Draco cleared his throat and said, "Thanks, Potter."

Harry glowered. "Will you bloody call me Harry? I seem to remember you telling me it wouldn't kill you to use your first name - how about you return the favour?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Alright... Harry."

They returned to the living room to find that Hermione had moved to another seat. She smiled at them as they came in. "Fred's still waiting to make that announcement."

"Go ahead," said Draco, sitting as close to Hermione as he could get. Harry hid a grin.

"Well, we wanted to help everyone destress, and we thought the best way to do that would be... a party."

Ron blinked. "A party."

"Exactly," said George, "Food, music, good company... games." He wiggled his eyebrows.

And then Harry had a brainwave.

*                              *                              *

"It's brilliant!" said Ginny when he told her. "But we might have to let the rest of them in on it."

"Why?"

"Put it this way... do you even have the faintest idea how to charm a bottle so it'll do what we want it to do?"

"No," said Harry miserably, "but let me guess - the others will?"

"Correct," replied Ginny happily. "I think you should tell Ron first, though - get it out of the way."

"Great - send me off to my death, why don't you?"

Surprisingly enough, telling Ron wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be.

Ron had known from the start that all was not friendship between Hermione and Draco. "It was the way she looked at him," he explained. "She's never looked at us like that, and I thought that either there was a whole new level of friendship that I didn't know anything about, _or _maybe she felt differently about him altogether. And, of course, you'd have to be a fool not to notice the way he looks at her."

"And... you're OK with this?" Harry asked uncertainly, neglecting to mention that he himself had not noticed the way Draco and Hermione looked at each other - he'd had to have it pointed out to him by Dumbledore.

"To an extent. If they love each other, what can I do about it? I mean, I could kick and scream, right, but would that change anything? Would they stop loving each other just because I'm not happy? No, they wouldn't. Besides, he's... well, he's obviously a good person. He's looked after you for five years, and I'm grateful for that."

Harry was touched by Ron's gratitude on his behalf, but was still not entirely convinced. "But you do fancy her, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but surely that's beside the point? She loves me as a friend, but she's in love with him. That's the way it is, end of story."

"OK, then," said Harry. "So will you mind much if Ginny and I try to play matchmaker?"

"Not at all," replied Ron evenly, then his head jerked up, "You and Ginny? You're not... are you?"

"No!" exclaimed Harry, and hurriedly changed the subject.

Preparations for the party were well under way. The Internet, despite being wonderful, could provide nothing in the way of magical products. Fred and George were especially disappointed to learn that Zonko's didn't have a website. So the task fell to Moody and other members of the Order to go out and requisition more supplies.

"I thought _you_ were getting the supplies," said Hermione to Fred and George at one point. "You got all that butterbeer."

"Already had it," said George gloomily.

"When Dumbledore brought our stuff here, I don't think he realised exactly what he was transporting for us."

"Butterbeer."

"Trick wands."

"Canary creams."

"Invisi-"

"No!" yelled Hermione. "Please stop. I don't want to know what you have brought to my apartment."

"_Our_ apartment," Draco corrected gently, going past with a large box, "I've just spoken to Moody by Floo. He passed me a whole bunch of stuff, and we can expect more within the next two hours."

Hermione looked around wistfully. "If any of you so much as scuff the carpet during this party-"

"We will hang ourselves," said Fred solemnly.

"You better bloody had."

When no-one was looking, Ginny sneaked a bottle of the butterbeer and drank it. "This is the bottle we'll use. Have you told Ron yet?"

"Yup," said Harry, still pleased that it had gone so well. "Have you told everyone else?"

"Only Fred and George - don't want to spread it around too much, or they'll know we've got a conspiracy going on. Although, come to think of it, I'm not exactly sure the twins will be as discreet as I'd hoped. I believe their exact words were, 'Hermione actually fancies that arsehole?'."

"He's not an arsehole!" said Harry furiously. "And she can fancy whoever the hell she likes! They-"

"Look, you can get angry about it later. Right now, we have business to attend to. Fred and George say they know the spell we want - apparently they've used it themselves in the past. I didn't ask why." Ginny waved the bottle in his direction. "Hope this works."

Mr and Mrs Weasley - who Harry had almost forgotten about, they'd been so quiet - had not been happy about the party at first. Despite the fact that they'd spent the last week or so reading and communicating with Dumbledore, they maintained that they were absolutely _not_ stressed out and did not need a party to help them relax. But after some cajoling from everyone else, they agreed to come along. "Only to chaperone you lot, though," Mrs Weasley assured them.

Harry gulped. If the Weasley parents were chaperoning, would they be able to carry out their plan?

The party was taking place that evening. Hermione was going quietly insane over the idea of the apartment getting trashed; Draco, who was supposed to be in charge of damage control, actually spent most of his time calming her down, which was kind of perfect because it meant that Harry, Ginny and the twins could plot as much as they liked without being noticed.

The plan was very simple: at some point during the party, perferably an adult-free point, Ginny would suggest a game of Spin-the-Bottle. Harry, Fred and George would all boisterously agree so as not to give Hermione or Draco a chance to object. It would be arranged so that they were sitting opposite each other. Then the specially-rigged bottle would be produced. It would land on Hermione and Draco and then they'd have to kiss. Harry couldn't help but be pleased with this plan. His enthusiasm for it was helped along by a half-hope that if it was successful, then maybe it would ease the burning guilt that felt like it had been plaguing him for what seemed like forever.

*                              *                              *

At exactly 7:30pm Eastern Standard Time, the party went ahead. Hermione had sound-proofed the apartment, so when Bill and Charlie (in charge of music and DJ-ing - Hermione had had to explain the concept three times before they understood) racked up the volume on the stereo, no-one called up to complain. Which was just as well, because it would get a lot noisier before the night was through.

The dress code, although previously stated as being casual, had somehow morphed into semi-formal - the three women were in dresses, and all of the males, even Lupin, had produced shirts from somewhere. Harry couldn't help but notice Draco's reaction to Hermione - obviously she didn't go for the dressy image during the holidays. She did look good, he admitted - a simple knee-length navy-blue summer dress, with spaghetti straps and a matching hair clip. Harry watched as she complimented Ginny on her dress choice - a dark green number which also looked good, but Harry refused to spend too much time looking; Ron was getting suspicious.

Ron had handled the food spectacularly - sandwiches, juice, pies, salads, and then a specialised selection of foods from the wizarding world, like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and Chocolate Frogs. "My parents are going to kill me," muttered Hermione, munching on a chilli-flavoured Bean.

Two hours later, the party was still raging and the butterbeer hadn't stopped flowing. Most people were at least a tiny bit giggly, except Hermione and Draco who were abstaining for professional reasons. Ginny winked at Harry, and he almost had a heart attack thinking she was about to fling herself on him, when she coughed loudly and said, "I think we should have a game of Spin-the-Bottle. What do you think?"

Harry was still busy feeling stupid for assuming Ginny would fling herself at him; it took a sharp kick in the shin for him to jump up and say, "Sounds good."

"Yeah, what the heck," said Fred and George together.

Harry noticed Hermione looking at them all incredulously. "Are you insane?" she asked. "You do realise that most of the people in this room are bloody related? I mean, I'm all for love and happiness and everything, but that's just disgusting."

Ginny seized the golden opportunity. "All the more reason for you and Draco to play."

Reluctantly, through many persuasive noises and a lot of dragging, the pair sat down in the circle. True to the plan, they ended up opposite each other. Harry almost cackled with glee at how it was working out. Fred and George were actually not playing so as to keep the number of related people to a minimum. Charlie, by prior arrangement, was busy distracting Mr and Mrs Weasley.

For Harry, everything went perfectly. The bottle spun round and round, and did exactly what it was supposed to do.

Hermione and Draco stared at each other, then the bottle, then each other again. "You can't back out," said Ginny quickly, "it's against the rules."

Harry knew for a fact that there was absolutely nothing in the rules that said that Hermione and Draco couldn't just make a run for it that very second. But he knew they wouldn't. Right? Suddenly he felt incredibly unsure. Had he really done the right thing? Forcing them into such a situation, and in front of so many people?

He never did find out. One minute he was watching Hermione and Draco, the next, there was an almighty crash that sounded sickeningly familiar, and he caught a glimpse of black cloak before he spiralled into oblivion.


	8. APA: Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: OK, two things: 1) I am very sorry for the delay in updating – this chapter gave me a few problems, and then when I'd finished it. It seemed like the entire planet was conspiring to stop me from typing it up. So, sorry for that. 2) WOW! About all the reviews. I don't know what happened – one minute I was on 28, or something, and then the next thing I knew, I was on 42. So, thanks, guys.

**HalfSlytherin/HalfAngel** – sorry if you don't like cliffhangers. It just seemed to be the right place to end the chapter. Hope it hasn't completely put you off this story.

**Kou Shun'u** – back again! Nope, your review definitely did the trick – thanks. And, yeah, I know the game is definitely not realistic with so many people being related, but it led to the cliffhanger, so… yoink!

**Aurora** – me and the plot bunny fought for ages. We compromised, but not until I'd stained my mum's rug with blood…

**Cailin** – I will e-mail you as soon as I've posted this on FF.Net. Glad you like the story!

**RinoaOHeartilly** – God, I hope you didn't change your name just for me? I feel so guilty now – it was a great name, honestly, and I didn't mind typing it one bit. Yeah, Herm and Draco are battling against the odds right now. But it'll be a happy ending… unless I get a mad, insane urge to kill one of them off…

**Athene Saile** – mm-hmm, the apartment was discovered and broken into – but how? 'Tis very important in future chaps.

**Kyrie TFR** – Out-there plots are soon to be a specialty of mine – I've got something else in the works that's even more Hermione-centric than this, if that's possible. Thanks for your comments.

**TKDgirl** – wow, thanks. I hope this lives up to your expectations.

**AndinaOfRivendell** – three reviews! I'm honoured. I'm glad you like the story.

**Mdemanatee** – I'm glad you think it's so unique; I hate writing to a formula, so it makes me feel better that you think I haven't. Thanks for reviewing.

**Jelly bean** – you're becoming a regular! Hope you get my e-mail. Thanks for the review.

**Eliza** – what can I say? Your review was funny and positive – it made me grin like a maniac. The fact that you described my story as cool… well, my ego is still swelling up. Thanks!

**Twisted Silver Dagger** – another regular; you'll be ordering drinks next. Thank you very much for the complimentary review, and I hope I can continue to impress you just as much over the next few chapters.

Chapter Eight

When he first opened his eyes, he thought he was at a Muggle disco. The bright light blinded him, and he shut his eyes tight, but he could still see colours blending and dancing in front of him.

The second time he opened his eyes, he felt sure that a considerable amount of time had passed between then and the first time. There was a strange buzzing sound in his ears, but when he shook his head to get rid of it, he was overcome by a wave of head-splitting pain.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"

The voice was faint behind all the buzzing. He felt a cool hand on his forehead, and then the voice was louder, right by his ear. "Harry? Please talk to me."

He struggled to sit up; he was vaguely aware of arms behind him, helping him to stand. His vision cleared - Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Draco were peering at him in concern. He could just make out Fred and George in his peripheral vision and discovered that they were supporting him. His legs gave a tiny wobble, but he gritted his teeth and held his ground. 

Feeling slightly more stable than before, he glanced at his surroundings; they appeared to be in a large, bare room. The walls, ceiling and floor were a bright, glaring white, but he found that once you could make out where the corners of the room were, they seemed a little less overpowering. Faint alarm bells started ringing, which he put down to the fact that he was, clearly, no longer in Draco and Hermione's apartment. In fact, he had no idea of where he was.

"Are you feeling OK?" asked Hermione gently. "We've been trying to wake you up for twenty minutes."

"W-What happened?" he croaked, unable to dredge up anything from his memory past the beginning of the Spin-the-Bottle game.

"Death Eaters," said Draco. "Interrupted our party and knocked us out. Must have been a pretty powerful spell, because as far as we can tell, we've been unconscious for hours."

"Where are we?"

Hermione's voice was hollow and drained. "We don't know. We don't even know where everyone else is."

Harry looked around and registered with alarm that Bill, Charlie, Lupin, and Mrs and Mrs Weasley were not in the room. Some of his alarm bells switched off, and he realised he'd finally caught up with part of his brain. But there were still some ringing.... A dull ache began to throb at the base of his skull.

"We think they've been put in another room," said Draco. "Probably reckon that us kiddies won't be able to do anything without adults around."

"Even though we're 18," said Fred indignantly, gesturing to himself and George.

Harry thought about saying something to Fred about the appropriate-ness (or lack thereof) of getting worked up about minor technicalities when they were in a life-and-death situation, but decided against it. "Can't you Apparate out of here?" asked Harry.

Hermione shook her head. "I've been trying since I came round, and so has Draco, but it's not working. Probably got the same charms on it as Hogwarts."

"Could we make a Portkey out of something?" suggested Ron. He removed his shoe and held it out. "This?"

Harry was almost certain he saw a tiny bit of admiration and surprise in Draco's eyes as he took the shoe. "We could try, I suppose, but the fact that they've let us keep our wands in this room makes me think any efforts will be useless."

Immediately they all pulled out their wands and tried some minor spells. Sure enough, nothing happened. "Dammit!" shouted Hermione, throwing her wand to the floor. She rubbed her hand over her face. "How could we let this happen?"

Draco placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly and led her away to a corner of the room where they spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes. Harry strained to hear what they were saying. He caught brief snatches: "Don't blame... not your... out of here...strong... them."

They returned to the rest of the group, Hermione looking considerably less worked up. She took a deep breath and said, "There's nothing we can do right now. This is, obviously, a magic-proof cell of some sort, and unfortunately, I don't see any door or windows, do you? So it looks like escaping through both magical and non-magical means is a no-go." Harry's remaining alarm bells shut off as his brain connected with reality - that was what he'd noticed before: no windows or doors. The room was shut tight.

"What do we do, then?" asked Fred.

Draco bit his lip. "We wait."

*                      *                      *

It was strange, Harry reflected, how quickly Hermione and Draco had taken on the roles of adults, despite the presence of Fred and George, who were two years older. They delegated tasks to the group, and before long, the seven of them were walking slowly around the perimeter of the room, feeling the walls for any gaps, cracks or lines which could signify the presence of a door.

At one point, Draco gave up on the walls and flung himself on the floor, much to Hermione's somewhat strained amusement. "What on Earth are you doing?" she giggled. "There's hardly going to be a door down there."

Just then, a section of the floor just inches away from Draco's nose slid away soundlessly to reveal a stone staircase. Draco shot a smug look at Hermione, stood up and was about to approach the staircase when Harry - and everyone else - heard an unmistakeable sound: footsteps.

First there was one set of footsteps. Then another. Another another. A total of five Death Eaters ascended into the room from the staircase. Instinctively Harry reached for his wand, but remembered that it was useless.

Four of them hung back, but the fifth, obviously elected as the spokesman, stepped forward. He pointed at Hermione. "Our Master wishes to speak with you."

"No," said Draco sharply, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind him. Harry and the others immediately moved to form a protective circle, but before they'd even moved a few centimetres, they found themselves flat on their backs. Harry winced at the pain in his side as he sat up. Evidently the Death Eaters still had their powers.

One of them pulled Hermione roughly away from Draco. He started forward, about to fight, but she frowned and shook her head ever so slightly, a clear 'no'. Harry had never felt quite so helpless as he watched Hermione being led down the steps and out of sight.

*                      *                      *

Harry would remember the hour that followed as being one of the most tense and emotionally confusing hours that he had ever lived through. Draco paced the floor continually, speaking to no-one and simply barking angrily at anyone who dared approach him. Harry realised that he had no idea how Draco felt, and so he in turn felt useless. Of course he was worried and scared for Hermione, and angry at himself, but Draco... Draco loved her as Harry did not. And that meant that whatever Harry felt, Draco felt, but even more strongly. _If I am in pain,_ Harry thought, _then he must be in absolute agony._

"She's... She's got to be alive, though, right?" said Ron hesitantly at one point. "Because he thinks that he has to kill her and Draco _together _to use them as a weapon... right?" No-one said anything.

When, eventually, they brought her back, she was unconscious. Draco looked torn between going to her and launching himself at the Death Eaters. Harry made the choice for him; he grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him over to where Hermione lay. They crouched down next to her. Outwardly there appeared to be nothing wrong with her, apart from the fact that she was unconscious. Then, on closer inspection, Harry discovered the beginnings of a bruise on her arm, a gash on the back of her hand, and some dried blood on her lip. He hoped she had got that in a fight, because if not, and she had bitten her lip so hard that it had bled, then that would mean...

"Hermione?" Draco whispered softly. "Can you hear me? Please wake up. Come on, now." Harry was in two minds about what to do. On the one hand, he cared for his friend and wanted to be there when she woke up. But on the other hand, Draco loved her. And Harry felt that he was interrupting a deeply intimate moment - Hermione's head in Draco's lap, his hands stroking her hair as he talked to her.

She stirred slightly, but didn't open his eyes. Draco's voice became louder, more insistent. "Hermione? Wake up for me, OK? Just open your eyes."

"Snurf-er-murnhh," she mumbled, rolling over onto her side, then gasping loudly in pain. Harry guessed that there must be injuries he couldn't see, and felt a surge of anger towards Voldemort. _What have you done to her, you bastard?_ Her eyelids fluttered open, then shut again abruptly. "Bright," she whispered.

Draco's relief was evident by his rare-but-genuine smile. He shaded  her eyes with his hand. "Try now. Better?"

She nodded, then clutched her head with the pain it induced.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked, and immediately wished he hadn't. She'd just met Voldemort, after all, and who knew what he'd done to her - how did he expect her to feel?

"I'll be OK," she muttered, blinking, then promptly passed out.

*                      *                      *

By the time she came round again, the Death Eaters had been and gone for a second time, taking Draco with them this time. Hermione went into full-blown panic mode. "We have to find him. Now. We can't let them get to him like they got to-"

Curious stares fixed upon her rapidly-reddening face as she broke off. Harry had the nasty feeling that she'd been about to say 'me', but he wasn't going to push for details. "We'll find him, Herm, but first we need to get out of this room. We'll need your help for that, OK?"

She nodded, still looking upset, but less panicked than before. The six of them knelt on the floor by the 'doorway'. Or, at least, the place where they hoped the doorway was - it was hard to tell when the entire floor was the same colour and texture, and didn't seem to have any indications at all that there might be a door present.

They were on the verge of giving up, and Harry was preparing for another panic attack from Hermione, when the door slid open again. An unconscious Draco was dumped onto the floor, and the alpha Death Eater beckoned to Harry. He felt a terrible cold settle in the pit of his stomach. It was, he reflected afterwards, the wrong time to have any kind of epiphany at all, but that was what happened. As he started to walk forward, he saw a figure rise up and, swiftly, move to block his way. It was Hermione, and when she spoke, he was fascinated by the lack of panic or fear in her voice. "No," she said, "you can't have him."

This same Hermione, he reminded himself, had been about to rip the walls apart in panic only five minutes ago. But now Draco was back... she was transformed. Now she was the poster girl for powerful serenity, if there could be such a thing. And he realised... they did that to each other. They _made_ each other strong, and powerful, and in control. He understood what Draco had meant, then, when he'd said, '_If Hermione died, it would mean a death, of sorts, for me too. But I would die inside, if you get my meaning_.' Because each could not live - truly _live_ - without the other.

The Death Eater raised his hand, but before he could do anything, she'd grabbed his wrist and, with a sharp yank, broken it. Harry and the others gasped as the Death Eater let out a howl of pain and rage. "You..." he spat, but didn't get any further - the twins launched themselved at him. The other Death Eaters started forward, but Hermione had pulled out her wand and was busy using the Stunning Spell on them. Harry, feeling somewhat confused about this sudden ability to use magic, pulled out his wans and began jinxing the nearest Death Eaters. He saw a Stunned Death Eater lying, prone, near the gaping hole at the top of the staircase and started pushing him over the edge. 

To his horror, the Death Eater's hand gripped his wrist; it's hood fell back to reveal a young, toothless man with cropped brown hair and a nasty collection of scars on his face. The man grinned a horrible grin, and pulled him over the lip of the hole. They went tumbling down, rolling and bumping until they reached the bottom. Harry's head was aching again, from the number of times he'd hit it on the stairs. He could feel the pain extending through his arms and legs, and wondered absently if there was any part of him - particularly, say, a part that would one day allow him to father a child - that wasn't injured in some way. He reached for his wand, but found that it had gone; he must have lost it back in the chamber, or on the staircase. Either way, it was too late now - Toothless Man had been joined by a couple of other Death Eaters, both of whom were jabbing their wands into Harry's back, forcing him along a dank, poorly-lit corridor.

Harry's scar was prickling strongly; he could see vague movement at the end of the corridor, and realised as he got closer that it was a cluster of insects, buzzing heavily around the entrance to another room. He shuddered and pulled back instinctively, but he was tugged forward roughly again. They got closer and closer to the horde of... locusts? Harry squinted, but couldn't make it out. The horde didn't move, remaining firmly in place as a barrier. The prickling was turning into a clear, uncomfortable pain, now. Just when Harry thought that he'd be pulled right _through_ the locust cloud, Toothless Man waved his hand and it parted cleanly in the middle, allowing them to step through.

Voldemort was waiting for them.

Silently, the Death Eaters bowed and retreated. Harry was left alone in the centre of the room; he stood his ground, and watched as his parents' murderer advanced slowly towards him. If it was possible, the pale, snakelike face looked even more gaunt that it had done previously; the red, slitted eyes more sunken. Harry couldn't help it, he just felt the words slip out. "Boy, you look like hell."

The eyes narrowed. "You are far too belligerent for your own good. The young of today are often so. Draco Malfoy, for example, used profanity, the likes of which I have not heard for a long time. But I wonder which of you rubbed off on the other, hmmm?"

Harry said nothing - he really didn't want to get himself _avada kedavra-_ed. At least, not before he had some answers.

Voldemort studied him intently. "Your mind disturbs me; I will admit that. You could be great, yet you spend your days acting like a fool. This... matchmaking business, for example." Still, Harry remained silent, worried though he was that Voldemort could get inside his mind so easily. "You wonder if I have a point? Of course I do. I intend to kill you. Eventually. But first of all..." he began to walk away, turning his back. Harry wondered what would happen if he tried to charge at him right now. Too late - Voldemort whirled around. "...You will tell me what you know of your Protectors."

Harry knew what was coming next. He clenched his hands into fists and felt his nails cut into his palms. Good. Maybe he could try and concentrate all the pain into those spots.

"_Crucio._"

No such luck. If he'd thought that his previous experience of the Cruciatus Curse would make this one more bearable, he would have been wrong. Blinding pain... shooting up and down his body, to every nerve ending he had... in those moments he forgot everything about himself and his life, about anything... all he knew was the pain.

Then it was over. He fell to his knees, briefly, but scrambled back to his feet as quick as he could.

Voldemort was chuckling mirthlessly. Harry felt the kind of anger he'd only ever associated with this... this _thing._ "So," said Voldemort, "what can you tell me?"

"Nothing," said Harry, and he wasn't lying. "There was a prophecy... but it's not complete. I don't know anything."

Voldemort regarded him coldly. "It seems you are not lying. Very well. I have bigger plans for you, of course, but it will do you good to worry for a while. But... before you go..."

The second _crucio_ left him breathless and unable to stand. He very nearly vomited. Toothless Man, hood back up now, 'escorted' him back to the white room. A newly-conscious Draco, waiting by the door, gave Toothless Man a punch in the face for good measure, then pushed him down the stairs. The door slid shut. Harry surveyed the room - the Death Eaters they'd been battling before had gone; everyone was still alive, but sporting a new injury of some sort.

Hermione helped Harry sit down. Harry looked at her in concern. "How many times did he do it to you?"

She blinked several times and avoided his eyes. "How many times did he do what?"

_Oh God,_ thought Harry. If she was avoiding the topic, she was trying to save him from something, probably guilt, and that meant... "The Cruciatus Curse," he whispered, "how many times?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't count. It's not important."

"Twice? More than twice?"

She glared at him. "Drop it! Do you want to get out of here or not? Because if you keep obsessing over silly little things like-"

"Like the bloody Cruciatus Curse? Oh, yeah, Herm, that's so silly, that is. Barely worth thinking about."

"Thinking about it will not get us out of here, and if you think I'm just going to sit around and let you get _summoned_ by Voldemort _again_, then you're bloody insane. I Protect you, OK? And if that involves _ignoring_ the Cruciatus Curse, then so be it."

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm just worried about you, Herm."

Her expression softened. "I know. I'm worried about you, too. I'm just glad he didn't knock you out."

"_That's_ why I'm worried. He knocked you out, but not me. He _crucio-_ed me twice. So either I'm stronger than you, which I sincerely doubt, or-"

He didn't get to finish. Draco grabbed his arm and hauled him to the other end of the room. "Look, P- _Harry_," he hissed, I wouldn't go there if I were you. I got zapped six times. At least. I'm not very clear on what happened after that, and I suspect it's the same for Hermione, so _please,_ leave it out."

Harry traipsed, subdued, back to where Hermione was sitting. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she said.

He offered her his hand, which she took, and he pulled her up. She glanced at the place where the door had been before. "It's a seal," she said. Harry frowned, wondering briefly if she was drunk - why else would she be telling him that a door was actually a creature of the sea? Then it hit him - obviously she was talking about the other kind of seal. She elaborated. "We figured out that surrounding this room is an anti-magic seal. It's broken, briefly, when the door is opened, and that gives us a window of time in which we can use magic. If we're ever going to escape, then would be a good time."

A thought, entirely unrelated to the topic of conversation, sprang to Harry's mind. "Draco... how did Voldemort react to you being my Protector?"

Draco frowned. "Actually, he didn't seem too surprised. He was muttering something about betrayal, but I expected that. I got the feeling that…" He shook his head. "Except that it's ridiculous."

"What is?"

"I don't know. Have you ever felt that someone knew exactly how something was going to turn out, even if it was impossible?" Draco shook his head again in resignation. "It's silly, but I just couldn't help feeling, from the way he was talking, that he was trying to change something that he already knew about."

"From what you used to tell me, it sounds like he fully expected you to be his most loyal Death Eater ever," said Hermione, sounding faintly annoyed. "You were brought up surrounded by his influence, you'd clearly made a habit of picking on Muggle-borns in school, and you were the personal enemy of Harry Potter... I'm surprised he didn't have a coronary when he found out the truth."

"Dark Lords don't tend to have heart attacks," Harry muttered bitterly, wishing that they did - it would make his life much easier. He turned to Hermione. "What about you? I suppose he kind of knew about you, right?"

She shrugged. "I think he suspected. But then he probably suspected Ron, too, so he obviously didn't know too much."

"I don't mean to sound morbid," said Ron, "but why hasn't he finished us off yet? Harry and us Weasleys, that is."

Hermione and Draco shared a distinctly nervous glance. "To be perfectly honest... we don't know. It's possible that if we are a bomb, then he plans to kill you in the explosion."

"Suppose it'd be easier than saying 'avada kedavra' eight times," muttered Fred angrily. "That's the thing with big families - we can bring on hell if we try."

"Um," said Ginny. It was the first time Harry had heard her speak since they'd arrived. "Not to put a dampener on things at all,but... we're planning to escape, right? And yet, how much information do we actually have about where we are? We don't know where the others are, we don't even know if this place is in the US or England. So what are we going to do once we get out of this room?"

Hermione gave a half-smile. "Well... I did a bit of scoping out when they took me to meet Voldemort. See this?" She showed them the bruise on her arm. "This is the result of a concealed Plotting Charm. In a little while it'll be fully formed."

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"It's a map. A map of this place. I took a chance and tried the charm on the way to see our little snakey friend. That's how I came to figure out about the anti-magic seal, by the way. Now, I reckon this place is probably Unplottable from the outside, but once you're on the inside, - easy peasy." They watched as the purpley-blue smudge slowly changed into a precise, delicate linear formation. A tiny red circle pulsated in the top right corner. "That's where we are," said Hermione. "Now all we have to do is wait for someone to open that door and hope my arm doesn't get blasted off in all the chaos."

George peered closely at her arm - Harry noticed Draco looking particularly murderous - and said, "Don't suppose this'll tell us where the others are?"

"Yes," she replied, "but I think I know where they are anyway. On our way to see Voldemort, I saw a staircase just down the corridor - looked like ours. It makes sense that they'd put them in a room similar to this one."

"What will we do once we're out in the open?" asked Harry. "What if it turns out that we're in... I don't know, Australia or something?"

Draco held up Ron's shoe. "We use Ron's Portkey idea."

Ron beamed with pride.

Hermione stared at the door. "Bloody hell, I wish it'd just _open._"

As if on cue, the door slid open. They pulled out their wands in preparation for a fight. But Harry didn't think anything could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him at the top of the stairs.

--------------

God, this chapter was an absolute bugger to write. Chapter Nine is even worse, but I have finally mapped out all the details, which makes me feel a little better. Again, feedback would be brilliant – thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.


	9. APA: Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** OK, there is no excuse on my part for updating so late. It is about four months since the last update and I don't know what to tell you. I had writer's block for a while, and then started work on a couple of other stories. It all spiralled and I neglected this fic and you. Anyway, the other night I sat down and finally attacked the last two chapters with a vengeance. I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed with this chapter. I had wanted a huge explosive scene but it just didn't work out like that. It's a pity because I really feel that in the gap of four months, my writing has improved somewhat, but I don't think this chapter is very exhibitive (is that a word?) of that.

So many people reviewed and I want to thank you all. Individual stuff is at the bottom. And now… the actual story…

Ooh, actually, before that, I need to tell you – I have made a change to chapter 8. It is very minor, but important to the plot all the same, and just to avoid confusion I recommend a quick skim of the chapter. Thanks.

**Rating:** R for this chapter (one bad word…)

Chapter 9 

            It was a couple. An elderly couple.

For a few seconds, Harry was convinced that he must be having a very strange, very twisted dream. Then his mind adjusted, and he considered the possibility that he was hallucinating. _That's it,_ he thought. _I'm still with Voldemort, or something, and the Cruciatus Curse is making me hallucinate._ He heard a gasp, and an "Oh my God," from Hermione's direction, and came crashing back to reality.

The couple were familiar – the man had pure white hair, a full head of it, and sharp, grey eyes. Draco's eyes. Not Draco's father, surely? His grandfather, perhaps. The woman's hair had once been darker, Harry could see, but now it was mostly grey, and long, pulled back into a plait. Her eyes were a warm chocolate brown. Their hands were entwined.

Suddenly, Harry knew with an unsettling certainty that these two people were, in fact, Draco and Hermione. But…

"How?" Hermione breathed.

"We're not allowed to say," the woman replied.

"There's a lot we're not allowed to say," said the man, "so perhaps we'd better tell you what we _are_ allowed to say, and save you the trouble of asking a lot of questions."

"You know who we are, don't you?" asked the woman.

All of them nodded – there were far too many similarities between the two couples, young and old, to remain oblivious to the truth. "We can help you get out of here, but there's something you need to do, and you need to do it _now._"

"What is it?" asked Draco.

The woman produced two identical capped vials from her pocket. They appeared to contain a pale blue liquid. She turned to the man. "Shut the door, would you?"

He complied, and she handed the vials over to Draco and Hermione. "Drink this."

Draco glanced at Hermione. They looked highly suspicious. "What is it?"

"It's a potion," the man replied. "It… well, it'll break your bond."

Draco immediately grabbed Hermione's hand. "No."

"You have to."

"We don't."

"You do."

"_Don't you fucking tell us what to do!_"

The man stepped forward. "Do you have any idea what you both are? What you could be? If you don't break the bond now, Voldemort will kill you both and use the resulting energy to kill all the Muggle-borns and halfbloods within 500 miles of here, at least."

"But you have to break it _together_," said the woman. "I'll explain later; we haven't got the time now."

Draco's jaw tightened. "I won't do it. _We_ won't do it."

"Not even if it would save thousands of lives?"

They said nothing for a while. Then Hermione whispered something in Draco's ear, and he seemed to agree, albeit reluctantly. They uncapped the vials.

"You have to do it at _exactly_ the same time, OK?" said the woman.

Draco looked at Hermione. "On three. One… two…." On three, they downed the potion in one go and instantly grimaced. Mere seconds later, they cried out in pain. Hermione stared at Draco. "I can feel it breaking," she whispered.

"Me too."

Harry watched, afraid, as they squeezed each other's hands. The pain distorted their expressions – he'd never seen anything like it. Ginny, standing next to him, gasped suddenly and pointed. He looked up, and gasped as well. Forming between Draco and Hermione, along the length of their bodies, were several very thin white strands. They were getting thicker and more visible as they watched, arching every so often with a crackle of electricity. The thicker they got, the more pain they seemed to put Draco and Hermione through. Slowly, very slowly, each strand blended with another, and another, until there was just one singular link of power between them. Then each end detached itself from their bodies, curling in midair like an abnormally large caterpillar to become a ball of light.

It looked, Harry thought, not entirely unlike what Professor Lupin saw when he faced a boggart.

Quick as a flash, the woman produced a glass jar which appeared to suck the orb into it and sealed automatically. She shrank it and gave it to Hermione. "You did the right thing."

Draco was studying his older counterpart with a mixture of suspicion and acceptance. "Care to explain what this is all about?"

"Your bond is… _was_… similar to that involved in a Muggle scientific concept. Harry knows what I'm talking about, don't you? Hermione, too. It's called nuclear fission."

Harry remembered a very vague lesson years ago about atoms. He'd been more interested in playing with the little Play-Doh models.

The man continued. "Muggles believe – correctly, I might add – that everything is made up of atoms. If you split the centre of these atoms, you get an immense amount of energy, powerful enough to destroy large areas of land and thousands of people. It's the same with Draco and Hermione."

"We're an atom?" Draco asked, confused.

"No – you're _like_ an atom in the sense that your bond, if broken, reacts in the same way as when the nucleus of an atom is split in half. The difference is that when humans used that technique to make a bomb, they had to set of a chain reaction involving millions of atoms, whereas your bond itself already possesses the power of one of those bombs. Voldemort planned to kill you, together, in a room similar to this, so that he could harness the energy as we have just done. Had you broken the bond in a normal room, you would have triggered the explosion."

"And this jar…" Hermione trailed off, holding it up and examining it closely.

"Is like a mini-version of this room." The woman finished.

"So what you're saying," said Harry, replaying the whole thing over in his head and feeling overwhelmed, "is that you have effectively just split millions of atoms at once. That… _thing_… in the jar is a bomb, and so if the jar is opened-"

"-you'll set it off. Please don't."

Hermione looked helpless. "What the hell are we supposed to do with it, then? Because I'm telling you now, there is no way I'm carrying a bomb around for the rest of my life. No way. Not a chance in hell. Over my dead-"

"Yes," said Draco with a pained expression. "We get the point."

The woman stared at the jar, transfixed. "What you're holding… that's pure, raw energy. You don't keep it. You use it."

"Use it?" Hermione eyed the jar doubtfully.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you _were_ planning on breaking out of here, right?"

"I'm not looking for justification or reasons," Hermione snapped. "I'm looking for a 'how to' explanation. Are you sure you're me?"

The woman's shoulder's slumped. I'm sorry. I know this doesn't make a lot of sense, and I know we've just made you give up something very precious to you, but you have to understand: this has happened to us, too. We're not changing history, here; we're making it."

"So in other words… you're following a set of instructions?" asked Hermione, looking slightly more at ease.

"Exactly."

Hermione frowned, and shook her head. "But surely you're breaking the rules by showing yourselves to us? I mean, now I know that I'll live to be… how old are you, anyway?"

The woman' eyebrow shot up. "Never ask a lady her age."

A snort from Hermione. "You're no lady."

The other eyebrow joined its partner. "Speak for yourself, my dear."

"Oh, but I am."

"Ahem," said Harry, "sorry to interrupt, but shouldn't we be escaping right now?"

"You're absolutely right," said the man. "Let's go."

And just like that, they did. The door slid open with a simple wave of the man's hand – seeing their looks of confusion, he just grinned and remarked cryptically, "It's wonderful when one is in control of one's own faculties."

Draco gaped and stated in no uncertain terms that he had never spoken like that, ever.

They descended the stairs to find the corridor full of frozen Death Eaters. "It's a bit like a more permanent version of the Impedimenta," the woman explained, "but you put the spell on the corridor, instead. That way, when someone enters, they can only get a few steps along before the Impedimenta kicks in. Useful, don't you think? With a few adjustments, you can set it to affect only Death Eaters."

Harry found it a bit unnerving to be walking right past some of the same people who'd been taking him to see Voldemort only half an hour ago – people who wanted him dead. They came to a set of stone steps that looked identical to the ones they'd just descended, and Harry felt a jolt of joy as he realised that this must be where everyone else – the older Weasleys and Lupin – had been imprisoned.

"We'll get them," said the man. "Stay here and keep watch."

They vanished up the steps. Harry looked over at Hermione and Draco, who were both looking pale and drawn. Draco, whether he realised it or not, was rubbing small comforting circles on Hermione's back. She was biting her lip and staring absently at the frozen Death Eaters. Harry himself was finding it a bit creepy, hanging around these living portraits of evil. They were like sculptures, he thought, the only difference being that these sculptures might suddenly jerk to life at any second. He hopped from foot to foot nervously, silently praying for the older couple to hurry up.

"Well, well, well…"

They all whirled around. Voldemort was standing mere metres away, an amused expression on his face. Harry heard Ginny whimper behind him, and remembered that it was only himself, Hermione and Draco who had ever seen Voldemort in person – it must have been quite a shock for the Weasleys. He was aware of Hermione and Draco slowly stepping forward to flank him, and was grateful for their support. He tried to keep his face expressionless, but he needed to ask Hermione and Draco what to do, and he wasn't sure how to do it without drawing attention to himself.

Voldemort waved a hand regally, and all of a sudden, the Death Eaters began to move again. They took a few purposeful steps forwards, then stopped looked around, and seemed to realise what had happened. A few of them prostrated themselves in front of Voldemort, and the rest moved to surround Harry and his friends menacingly. _Great,_ Harry thought. _Bloody perfect._

"Going somewhere?" Voldemort asked. "I should think not. Now, kindly return to your chamber before I have your pathetic red-headed friends executed."

Harry, mind racing but failing to come up with a plan, looked over at Hermione to try and work out what she was planning to do. As it turned out, whatever Hermione might have been planning was irrelevant because at that very moment, the older Draco and Hermione came down the stairs accompanied by the older Weasleys and Remus Lupin. The second they saw the strange tableau in front of them, the woman tried to push the others back up the stairs, and the man hissed, "Go, go!"

But Voldemort, looking even more amused, said, "Of course. I did suspect you would attempt something like this – why else would I investigate personally? But it's a little late for atonement, thought, don't you think?"

Harry was confused, and he wasn't the only one. _I will not ask, I will not ask…_ "What are you talking about, you old fart?"

Almost at once, he felt a head-splitting blow delivered to the back of his head by one of the Death Eaters – Draco caught Harry's arm before he fell to the floor. Voldemort sneered. "Sometimes I think you _want_ me to kill you. Tell me, Boy Who Lived – do you think these two-" he gestured to the older couple, "-are your allies? Your friends?"

Harry glanced at the couple in question. "What?"

"Tell them the truth, _Protectors._ Tell them everything – who came back in time only to walk right into my welcoming arms? Who broke the wards on that wretched little shack of a house? Who broke the wards on your place in New York? Who gave this ridiculous little group of people to me on a silver platter?"

Everyone stared at the older couple in horror. "Is it true?" asked Hermione, stricken.

The pair looked at each other. "Yes," said the man, "but we were under the Imperius curse, I swear."

Harry relaxed slightly. He believed them, but the sense of unease still remained as he observed the smug expression on Voldemort's face. "_We were under the Imperius curse_," he mocked in a silly voice. "Yes, they were, but shouldn't they have been able to resist it? Perhaps they were tempted by the lure of my incredible power. It wouldn't be the first time. So tell me – do you still feel safe? Able to trust them? Or, for that matter, their younger counterparts?"

Immediately Harry knew what Voldemort was trying to do. If he could drive a wedge between them all, he'd have them conquered in seconds. Well, it wasn't going to work, not if Harry could help it….

But whatever Harry might have done, it was pre-empted by the older Hermione and Draco, who simultaneously raised their arms and yelled something Harry didn't catch. Voldemort was flung backwards, but quickly leapt up again. The Death Eaters began to surge inwards. The woman shouted, "Stupefy!" at the top of her voice, while the man appeared to be replacing the long-range version of the Impedimenta on the corridor. Voldemort deflected the woman's Stun easily, but he hadn't banked on one thing – brute force. Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin flung themselves at the ugly, snake-like man before them and tackled him to the ground. The Death Eaters, frozen, did nothing.

Everyone looked on in horror, fearing that the worst would happen, and sure enough Voldemort pulled out his wand. "Avada Ke-" he began, but then the younger Hermione yelled, "Expelliarmus!" and Voldemort's wand flew through the air. She snapped it brutally across her knee, a strange expression on her face that Harry had never seen before. He didn't have time to examine it, though; he was very nearly trampled as Bill and Charlie Weasley rushed to join the fray.

Hermione was studying her little bruise-map on her arm. Her older counterpart peered at it closely and said, "The exit's not far. We can all make it if we run."

"We'll have to put more of that charm on the corridors," said the man. "The question is, how to get those four out of here-" he gestured to the three Weasleys and Lupin, who were all viciously attacking the Dark Lord, "-without giving him a chance to recover and come after us."

The woman glanced at the small, glowing jar that Hermione was clutching. She nodded. "It's a good opportunity for them to learn to channel it."

Draco wandered over to stand next to Hermione. "What are we doing?"

The man came to stand behind him; the woman followed suit with Hermione. "We can pin Voldemort down using this energy, but the channelling process is very difficult; we're dealing with huge amounts of energy here. What you need to do is this…"

Draco and Hermione's hands joined, the jar beneath them. They closed their eyes, and what followed was something that Harry would never be able to fully put into words. Instead of moving out of the jar, the energy moved up through their hands and into their bodies, invading their every cell until Harry was positive that they were glowing. They spoke; quiet, hushed words of an ancient magic dating back to the first Protectors. Except that Harry could _see_ their words. Not the letters, but the words. They danced amidst the blood and violence, weaving their way into the writhing scrum.

Arthur, Bill, Charlie and Remus sprang away from Voldemort, who was very clearly being pinned to the floor by a pure white sheet of light.

Every single one of them was entranced by this odd sight, and would have remained so, but the older couple yelled, "Come on!" and began to run down the corridor. Shaken, they followed, occasionally colliding with the frozen Death Eaters. Draco was clutching Hermione's hand as if he would never let go.

If anyone tried to stop them, Harry didn't notice. Sometimes he heard a curse yelled up ahead and saw a flash of light; several seconds later he'd run past a fallen Death Eater.

Then, all at once, they were outside in the cool, fresh air still running. It was dark, but Harry could see the shadows of trees not far away. When he glanced back, the only thing that indicated the presence of a building was a faint shimmer. "Stop," the man panted, leaning over and breathing deeply. "Bloody arthritis," he muttered.

"You'll have to do it again," said the woman.

"Channel the energy?" asked Hermione. "But wh-? Oh…"

She shared a worried glance with Draco, and they both looked at Harry. "It's prophesised that… that Harry kills Voldemort. If we do this, we're destroying that, and we don't know what they will mean."

Then Harry, before he knew what he was doing, said, "So let me do this with you."

"Can he?" Draco asked the older version of himself, who shrugged and said, "I don't see why not."

Draco and Hermione adopted their stance as before, only this time Harry's hand rested atop theirs. He looked at Hermione to ask her what he had to say, but was surprised to feel his mouth opening and a language he had never known coming out. He could _feel_ the energy filling him, flowing out in his words, and was almost overcome by the power. _Destroy,_ he heard a voice say inside his head. _Destroy… **everything!**_

But then something very odd happened. He was ready to destroy the world with the energy, but he heard something… a faint whisper…

_Just the building, Potter. No need to go overboard._

He grinned. _Draco, this is frankly disturbing, having you in my head._

_Hey,_ said a new voice - Hermione. _Let's not forget the token female, OK? I'm blowing up this building, too._

_Yes, we know you are, darling, _Draco's dry tones were the same through any medium – vocal chords or telepathy. _So let's get this show on the road._

The energy swelled, surrounding the building like a great tidal wave. And then, before Harry realised what was happening, the tidal wave crashed down over the building and it was gone, destroyed by the sheer power of a split bond. A blast of hot, fast air rushed past them – the shockwave – making them stagger slightly.

_Cool,_ Harry thought. _Oh, well – see you afterwards, you two._

He removed his hand from the jar and tried not to feel too disappointed when he realised he could no longer hear Draco and Hermione in his head.

A faint voice from behind asked, "Is it over?"

_Over…_ Harry was only just beginning to appreciate the meaning of that word. "Yeah, Ginny." He grinned. "It's over."

**Author's Notes:** You know, I had an idea while typing this up. I typed the words 'frozen Death Eaters' so many times that I started to imagine them as a kind of ice-cream. So if there's anyone out there in the ice-cream business – that's your next money-making venture: Death Eaters on sticks.

Now – wonderful reviewers:

**Chi** (you said such lovely things. Thank you!), **RinoaOHeartilly** (I'm not that evil! Hope you're still interested in this fic four months later, and not regretting the name change), **Twisted Silver Dagger** (I love you! You constantly find the only good stuff there is in my story and point it out, ignoring the bad stuff. Please come back!), **Nina and dark star **(thanks!), **TDKgirl** (sorry for the wait), **Erica G. **(don't we all…), **crissy** (ooh, I could have done that, too. Dammit.), **SlytherinDaggers** (your review really struck a chord with me – I kept remembering it whenever I was stuck), **Kou Shun'u **(your reviews always make me grin – thanks!), **lucy, jelly jelly bean and AndinaOfRivendell** (sorry – I know I'm bunching people together, but I need to conserve space. Thanks to all three of you for your kind words – you're lovely.), **Katherine5 **(I was kind of alternating between Fly Me To The Moon and Mack the Knife when I wrote that chapter, although I don't think Frank's version of Mack the Knife is as good as Bobby Darin's! So, yeah, it probably was Fly Me To The Moon, which is a great song. Thanks for asking!), **jenny** (hope you enjoyed it), **angelc1415, bunny, and tiffany2321 **(e-mails on the way!), **Nina** (you didn't leave your e-mail address! So I couldn't send one, but I hope you find this chapter anyway.), **Meg**, **purpleballerynna, jeannette, Aurora and Purple WinD** (thank you all so much! Hope this chapter entertains you.)

The last chapter will be up very soon. In the meantime… well, you know what I'd like, right?


	10. APA: Chapter 10 Epilogue

**Author's Note:** Thanks and elaborate bouquets go to all those who have stuck with me on this. There was a significant amount of time between chapters, so I'm sorry for all that hassle. Chapter 9 was put up in place of an Author's Note, but that didn't show up as an update – probably lost me some readers. Anyway, special salutations go to **Kou Shun'u **and **Jeannette**, who read my e-mail and reviewed chapter 9. Thanks, guys. I was beginning to think I'd lost my mind.

So, without further ado – no with the chapter.

Chapter Ten – Epilogue 

            "Essentially, though, you'd rather sleep with Voldemort than my dad, right?"

"Seriously, we're still having this conversation?"

"We wouldn't be if you'd just _answer the bloody question._"

"No way."

"Oh, come on."

"Not a chance."

"Not even for me? To save me from intense psychological trauma – which I would surely get, by the way, if I happened to imagine you and my dad – ow!"

"You bloody deserved it. Now never talk about that again."

"What, you and my dad – what are you doing? Hermione, put it down, and no-one needs to get hurt… put it down! No! Nooooo!"

Harry burst into the infirmary to find Draco writhing in agony on his bed. He grinned. "Madame Pomfrey's going to kill you if she comes in right now."

Hermione ceased her death-by-tickling rampage, and dropped the feather. Draco, still breathing hard and squirming, gasped and said, "I might be dead already."

They were at Hogwarts. Term had not yet started, but Dumbledore had agreed that, in light of their ordeal, perhaps it would be better for them to stay at the castle anyway. For Harry, Ron and Ginny, this was wonderful; they had the run of the whole building, and were making the most of it. But Hermione and Draco had been relegated to the infirmary since their arrival three days ago on account of 'the considerable stress you have endured over the past five years, but particularly this summer', according to Dumbledore.

In Harry's opinion, this was just what the pair needed: some time alone, in peace, to sort things out between them. But he had it on good authority – Ginny's, to be precise – that 'things' were not moving along as they should be.

However, something had arrived that morning that would hopefully make his job a lot easier. He held up a large, extravagant bouquet of flowers and presented them to Hermione. "Arrived this morning via Special Delivery," he said. "The postmark is Bulgarian." And with that, he winked, and left the room.

*                      *                      *

Hermione stared at the flowers, carefully avoiding Draco's eyes. "From Viktor, I suppose?" he spat.

"Yes, they are," she said, torn between defending Viktor and reassuring Draco that she was just friend with him. "Um… nice, aren't they?"

He sniffed. "If you want to die of a pollen overdose."

"Oh, leave it," she snapped. "It was a lovely gesture."

"The next thing you know, he'll be over here, kissing your hand and proposing marriage. And you'd think that was 'a lovely gesture', too."

"And what if I did?" she retorted furiously, no longer bothering to avoid his eyes. On the contrary, she was almost staring him down now, sending death glares over to his bed.

"Well, I'm sure it'd be a wonderful marriage," he sneered. "Idiot kids – not even _your_ intelligence can make up for his complete lack of brain cells – running around flinging themselves at shiny things. A bunch of relatives you don't understand. And it rains in Bulgaria, you know."

"It rains _here_." She was getting angrier with everything that he said. "And it's not like I understand _your_ parents either, and _you're_ a seeker – maybe _our _kids would throw themselves at shiny things, too."

He stared at her, an odd look passing across his face. "At least I'd understand you properly. I'd pronounce your name right. I wouldn't need everything explained to me using Quidditch metaphors. I'd take care of you."

"How do you know _he_ wouldn't?"

"Because he doesn't love you like…" he trailed off, and stared at his feet.

"Like?" she whispered.

"_You_ know."

"Do I?" She sighed sadly. "Sometimes I don't think I do. And now that our bond's gone, I… I wonder if we'll ever be the same again."

Draco shook his head, and carefully got out of bed. "Nothing will ever be the same again," he said solemnly, coming to stand by her bed.

She couldn't help the small sob that escaped from her throat. "Why, though? Why does it have to change? We had such a wonderful friendship before, Draco, and-"

He took her hand. "It has to change, Hermione. I mean, you can't honestly say that we could go back to the way things were before if I did this…"

And he kissed her. Surprise made her gasp into his mouth; she felt him grin as he pressed his lips harder against hers. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard fireworks going off somewhere… or was that in her head? His kisses were so warm and soft, and _gentle_; for all his attitudes over the years, she would have thought he'd be quite a… a _cold_ kisser. Her arms moved up to encircle his neck. For now, she had no intention of letting him go…

*                      *                      *

Ginny took one peek at what was going on in the infirmary, gave a silent whoop of joy, and took off down the corridor at a run. She found Harry and Ron playing wizard's chess on the staircase ("Because we could," explained Harry when she asked him later). "_It_ has happened," she said dramatically, but only Harry seemed to understand.

"You're _joking_," he said, and stood up.

"What's going on?" asked Ron.

"Draco and Hermione came to their senses," Ginny informed him, and promtle wished she hadn't when she saw Ron's face.

"Um…" Harry tried to salvage the situation. "How about some Quidditch, eh, Ron?"

Ron brightened slightly. "OK. But no bludgers."

"Fine by me."

Ginny grinned and gave Harry a thumbs-up as he and Ron started down the stairs; Harry tossed a wink in her direction.

"So," Ron wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "you and Ginny, eh?"

Harry just smiled.

*                      *                      *

Some time later, Draco and Hermione were both lying, curled up, on Draco's bed. Draco was stroking her hair, occasionally pressing kisses to her neck and making her laugh.

She shifted slightly to look at him. "21st of August, 2063. Seems ages away, doesn't it?"

He chuckled. "That's because it is." His face grew serious. "I can think of one thing we should have asked them."

"What's that?"

"Her surname."

She stared at him, comprehension dawning. "Oh. Yes, I-I suppose that would have been a good question. Don't imagine they'd have told us, though." She smiled softly. "Besides, who's to say she wasn't a true 21st-Century woman, and kept her own name?"

He laughed, and kissed her quickly on the mouth. "Is that a threat?"

"Is that a proposal?" she countered.

"Depends on what your answer's going to be."

She hopped off the bed and he whined slightly at the loss of contact. "I won't marry a man who doesn't let me have a pet."

Draco sat up abruptly. "A pet? Hermione, you know it'll only shed hairs all over the house, and what if our kids are asthmatic?" He groaned when he saw her attractive pout. "OK, fine. But no hippogriffs. Let's get a nice little puppy, or something."

"Yes!" She thrust her fist into the air in triumph.

"So you'll marry me, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "As if I'd turn you down."

The room was silent for a while as they indulged in a spot of fierce, passion-filled kissing.

Hermione pulled away. "What are we going to do about Bob?"

Bob was the name they had given to the glowing jar. They hadn't really discussed what they were going to do with it.

Draco considered it. "I suppose we'll have to use it. Maybe Dumbledore wants some landscaping done, or I could re-model the manor…" He gasped suddenly. "That's it! Of course! Hermione – _I_ will build our house for us. From scratch."

A cold sense of dread washed over Hermione as she considered the possibilities. Draco impaled upon a plank of wood. Draco buried under the rubble of an unstable house. "Not a chance," she declared. "I'm giving Bob to Dumbledore for safe-keeping. Maybe he can use it to make Professor Flitwick grow, or something…"

"_Or_ I could use it to make a sparkly diamond ring for you," said her future husband.

She grinned widely. "Or that."

"Glad we sorted that out. Now, Mrs Draco Malfoy-to-be, get over here and kiss me."

She was more than happy to comply.

The End 

**Author's Note:** I know what you're going to say – the marriage thing was too soon. I know. I don't know how that got in there, but it just felt right for the scene. They'll be having a _long_ engagement, I promise you that. In the meantime, I may do a one-shot sequel because I wanted to write about the world's reaction to Voldemort's defeat, and the school's reaction to Draco and Hermione. Unfortunately, it didn't feel right for this chapter, and I wanted to finish here. So, you know… there's a possibility. Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me on this. I know it's over, but I'd love it if you could review anyway. Thanks.


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